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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25732477">The Blood Will Wash Out</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AltUniverseWash/pseuds/AltUniverseWash'>AltUniverseWash</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Analog Starlight [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Homestuck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Alternia, Alternia-Focused, Alternian Empire, Beforus (Homestuck), Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Colonialism, Conspiracy, Cyberpunk, Depression, F/F, F/M, Gen, Imperialism, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Investigations, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Military, Military Backstory, Military Science Fiction, Murder, Murder Mystery, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), POV Female Character, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Spy thriller, Thriller, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Trauma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:28:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>23,351</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25732477</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AltUniverseWash/pseuds/AltUniverseWash</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div>
  <p> </p>
  <p>    <br/>  </p>
</div>Colony World 4729D exists in the far corner of the Alternian Empire, all but forgotten by everyone except those stationed there. It has become a kind of dumping ground for lost souls - the people who no longer have a home anywhere in the Empire.<p>Sub-Commander Kissai Zalska, a jade-blood officer and second-in-command of the colony, is one of those lost souls. Running from her own past, she spends her days trying to forget and hoping that she'll one day be able to live beyond what she did.</p><p>When an act of unexpected violence thrusts Kissai into the spotlight, she finds herself in the middle of a dangerous game where she has no idea who to trust, no clue what to do next, and no sense of whether or not her next decision will be her last.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Analog Starlight [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1866583</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Any Given Day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Content/Trigger Warning: Please be warned that this fic generally contains blood/gore (about Homestuck canon-typical levels) and deals with issues of trauma/PTSD, mental illness, systemic violence, military violence, and other serious issues. Specific trigger warnings will be placed before chapters dealing with particular issues, but if any of these general subjects are triggering for you please proceed with care.</p><p>This is a prequel/sequel to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23964748">Plasticine Soul</a>. This can be read as a stand-alone work, although it ties into the ending of Plasticine Soul and a lot of the world-building will make more sense with that context.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Trigger warning: This chapter contains brief allusions to suicide.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="blurry-text3">
  <span>The smell lingered in the air – an acrid tang that danced in her nose long after it should’ve faded away. It was everything she’d been afraid of made manifest – every single dark thought that she was sure would never actually come to pass. There was, after all, a reason why she had volunteered for the Fleet and not the Army.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>The choice between this and the brooding facility. A choice that felt like it was a million sweeps away now – distant in a way that spoke of a hollow emptiness that she would never be able to fill in. The Fleet had been a chance – a way to escape from everything. A way to see the distant stars that twinkled in the black infinity above.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>It had seemed like such a romantic notion at the time.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>It felt like so long ago, now.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>5th Day of the 7th Bilunar Perigee, 474th Sweep of the Reign of Her Imperious Condescension</b>
  </span>
  <b><br/>
</b>
  <b>Colony World 4729D</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kissai Zalska’s head had been aching when she fell asleep, and having been passed out on her desk in a small puddle of her own saliva hadn’t made the matter any better. Consciousness came in around her, sweeping in to pick her up and drop her unceremoniously back into reality. The phantom smell of burned gunpowder vanished. But underneath that, the haunting memory that it belonged to remained. She couldn’t stop thinking about it, even when she was awake.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shifted a hand around one of her horns – curved slightly and tipped with a barb – perfectly symmetrical on each side. Matching the symmetry of her long (but not <em>too</em> long) face. She’d been told she was attractive often enough. It made her feel good for a while. Now it just made her feel… uncomfortable. It all felt like a mask that was put over something that was festering and rotting and there was nothing she could do about it anymore. Not now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a groan, Kissai lifted her head and wiped her mouth. The telNet terminal in front of her glowed dimly – the report she’d been working on when she fell asleep was still burning into the screen. It wasn’t important – it was never important. If Second Fleet back on Alternia actually cared about the production numbers of one of their least-interesting colonies, they never said anything about it. Communication back to Fleet tended to be a one-way kind of thing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The terminal burned at her – the amber-on-amber display hurt to look at for too long. She would put this off as long as possible, pretending it took far longer than it did. It wasn’t like anyone would question her anyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At some point during her impromptu nap, she’d received a message over the colony network.</span>
</p>
<p class="amberterminal">
  <span class="terminaltextamber">New message from MeartoEnkeza</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">Received 1 hour ago</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kissai stretched her neck, hearing it pop as she straightened out again. Mearto was the facility Commander, so ignoring this wasn’t going to be a thing she got to do.</span>
</p>
<p class="amberterminal">
  <span class="terminaltextamber">ME &lt; =&gt;SUB-COMMANDER ZALSKA!</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">ME &lt; =&gt;REPORT TO MY OFFICE AT ONCE!</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">ME &lt; =&gt;THERE IS AN URGENT MATTER WE MUST DISCUSS!</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">ME &lt; =&gt;END</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">-- end of previous messages --</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">KZ &gt; ...sorry, commander, I was busy with reporting</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">KZ &gt; ...I’ll be right there</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She waited, but the cursor just kept blinking with no response. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Finally, she decided he wasn’t going to bother responding. He was a gaping nook-hole, after all – generally a shitty person who treated everyone who served under him like dirt. Even though his slice of the Empire was a shitty colony at the edge of the Far Reaches, he was going to run the place like he was Her Imperious Condescension herself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, as Sub-Commander she didn’t really have to pay much attention to it. He didn’t have the authority to demote her, and a request for transfer would take perigees to process. As long as she kept herself shy of, say, killing him outright then things would be fine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kissai stood up and groaned again, stretching and making her way to the dresser by her sleeping pile. Military regulations called for a cot for base personnel instead of a pile, but Kissai had long ago decided that if she was going to be stuck on this damnable rock for sweeps then she was at least going to be comfortable. At least she wasn’t still on a Fleet ship – that often necessitated using a recupercoon while underway… Kissai hated them in a particular way. Not at first, but after…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They made the dreams worse. More vivid.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shrugging that particularly unpleasant thought away, Kissai reached into the dresser and pulled out a standard uniform. She’d made a habit of working in her underwear whenever possible – one of the benefits of having a terminal in her private quarters. The uniform was stiff and uncomfortable and it felt all kinds of wrong to wear it. Putting on the deep green trousers and blouse that were standard-issue to jade-blood officers in the Alternian Fleet… it was like locking herself into a mental prison every time she had to do it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="kissai">Why not just… not?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was such a tempting thought – the idea of dropping out of all of it and going back to…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To what, exactly?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t have anyone waiting for her back home on Alternia. Even calling it “home” was such a dishonest thing to say. Since she was nine sweeps, it hadn’t really been. Time spent on the ships of the Fleet, broken by shore leave on various colony worlds. She’d gone out of her way to request postings that kept her as far away from Alternia as possible – about as far away as she could get without being in the Eighth Fleet with the Empress.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even after her career as a ship-board officer was effectively cut short, she still begged to be kept far away from the planet she’d been hatched and brooded on. The Fleet had been only too happy to oblige – maintaining an endless series of backwater colony worlds was easier when you had people willing to throw their lives away in order to fulfill the solemn duty of babysitting what amounted to a self-sustaining ore farm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="kissai">I hate this so much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="kissai">But I guess it beats the alternative.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And what was that alternative? A trip back to Alternia? The service pistol she kept in her drawer?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At this point, she wasn’t sure there was a difference.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span>Every corridor in the colony looked basically the same – there was a certain design sensibility in the Alternian Army-designed prefab structures that varied only slightly over the sweeps as they made subtle improvements in materials and design. The overall sense was utilitarian, with a bare metal skeleton sporting an insulating layer and thin protective coating on the inside. It was, invariably, beige in color.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kissai stepped out of her door into one of those many identical corridors only to see the massive bulk of the colony’s security chief leaning up against the wall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sergeant Pyrane,” Kissai said curtly. “You have something you need?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elmazi Pyrane – a teal-blood who towered over Kissai’s already above-average height. A teal-blood who wore the uniform and carried the rank of an olive-blood and refused to say anything about it. Who did everything she could to blend in, despite her blood caste. Former blood caste. Whatever she’d done, she wasn’t coming back from it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blending in would be hard for her – her massive frame was topped with a square jaw and hair that she kept short. Her horns jagged back on themselves like small bolts of lightning. Her face was always set in an intense expression, as if whatever she had to say was <em>always</em> serious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sergeant?” Kissai said again when Elmazi didn’t respond. “I have a meeting with Commander Enkeza and you know how he gets  when you keep him waiting.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was basically a lie, but Kissai didn’t feel like having two conversations today. Elmazi nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course, Sub-Commander. There was a matter I needed to speak to you on,” she finished without fanfare. Kissai kept walking down the corridor at a brisk pace, forcing Elmazi to walk after her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whatever it is, can it wait until tomorrow?” Kissai asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elmazi picked up her pace until she was walking alongside Kissai. She shook her head and looked around – she seemed nervous. Why was she nervous? “I… I don’t think it can wait, actually.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="kissai">Why can’t she just leave me alone?!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine, Sergeant,” Kissai rolled her eyes. “If it’s that important, we can discuss this matter later.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her eyes shifted and for a second it looked as if she was about to continue to argue the point, but she held herself back. “Yes, Sub-Commander.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They continued down the corridor, passing a number of turns to various parts of the complex. All around, various low-bloods went about their daily routine. A pair of rust-blood technicians that were talking in a low whisper stopped as soon as they saw Kissai and Elmazi. Whatever it was, they didn’t want their superiors to hear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="kissai">As if it’s any secret that we all hate it here.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="kissai">It’s just better than our alternatives.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elmazi was still walking with her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Was there something else you needed, Sergeant?” Kissai asked, glancing over at the massive teal-blood. “Or are you just planning to follow me around like a lost woolbeast?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m on the next duty shift at the Commander’s office, ma’am.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kissai continued to walk in silence.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span>“God damn it, why’s Outhro not at his post?!” Elmazi ran up to the security door to the Commander’s office and looked around frantically. “He’d better have a damn good fucking reason for this!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Specialist Outhro Remlet – a bronze-blood and one of Commander Enkeza’s security detail. She only knew his name because of his assignment to the Commander’s detail – that was one part of her job she at least tried to take seriously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So go find him, Sergeant. Go give him a really good talking-to or whatever. I don’t have time for this,” Kissai walked up to the door and hit the intercom button on the side. “Commander, it’s Zalska. You wanted to see me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nothing – no response from the other end.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="kissai">If he fell asleep I swear…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>An ironic thought, given the circumstances of Kissai’s late arrival, but the Commander’s position in the base was less ceremonial. He was responsible for all the personnel management and reporting back to Second Fleet about what was happening in the colony.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She punched the intercom again. “Fine. I’m coming in. You better have pants on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her access card would override the door lock – she was one of the few people with unrestricted access to the Commander’s office. Kissai inserted the magnetic key into the lock and it clicked softly as it opened. The door opened with a hiss…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was dark inside – too dark to see.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="kissai">He’s taking a fucking nap!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In spite of herself, Kissai felt her face burning with anger. He could’ve just left her alone with her thoughts! If it wasn’t even important enough to stay awake for, then it wasn’t important enough to drag her over here for! It was just his way of exerting power over everyone under him!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You fuck!” Kissai yelled into the office. “Wake your stupid ass up!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No answer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kissai reached over to the wall, fumbling for the light switch. She located it by feel and pressed in, flooding the room with brilliant artificial light from the overhead fixtures.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t scream at first – that didn’t happen until she fully processed what she was seeing in front of her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was blood – jade-green blood – so much blood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the middle of the office, lying on the floor in a pool of that same jade blood, was the body of Commander Mearto Enkeza.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All at once, Kissai realized what had happened.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then she screamed.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chain of Command</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>5th Day of the 7th Bilunar Perigee, a few hours before the murder</b>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Over-Specialist Allite, are you telling me you contacted me because of a noise in the ventilation system?” Elmazi was trying very hard not to scream at the rust blood technician who stood a foot and a half below her. Alnair Allite was stocky and muscular, with a pleasantly-shaped round face and a pair of horns that swept back and down along her ears. She also looked nervous – as if Elmazi was going to slit her throat any minute.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought you should… you know… like the posters say!” Alnair managed to stutter it out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The posters she was referring to had been issued by the Alternian Fleet Command fifteen sweeps ago and plastered seemingly at random throughout the colony building. They’d been relocated from time to time, but were universally faded to the point of almost being illegible. They all had a singular slogan emblazoned in large font on the front:</span>
</p>
<p class="paper">
  <span class="papertext"><b>Don’t Let the Heretical Confluence Win!</b></span>
  <b><br/>
</b>
  <span class="papertext"><b>Report All Deviations to your Security Chief!</b></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Heretical Confluence hadn’t existed for fourteen sweeps. The name was loosely applied to a series of so-called “rebels” that had been active on worlds throughout the system – mostly Far Reaches worlds where the Alternian Army was less likely to stamp them out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the end, they’d met the same fate as a hundred other such groups – they’d gained a little bit of ground before being mercilessly put down by the Alternian Fleet and Army. Elmazi wasn’t old enough to really have been aware of what was happening, but she knew from the history she’d learned during Legislacerator training that at least one of the offending colony worlds had basically been reduced to flat glass.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And that hurt to think about – Elmazi winced without meaning to. Alnair must’ve taken it as directed at her because she closed her eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Sergeant!” She put out a hand and waved it. “Never mind, it won’t happen again!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elmazi sighed. “No, it’s fine. You did the right thing, Specialist. You’re sure this wasn’t something wrong with the system itself?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alnair drew herself up to her full height – it didn’t make a bit of difference but she was trying. “Absolutely not! I’m the primary HVAC technician for this facility! Me and my crew keep careful track of everything and I know what I heard! It definitely sounded like someone was moving around in the primary intake ducts!” She leaned in and looked around nervously before dropping her voice. “It could be spies!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Spies for who, Specialist?” Elmazi asked, her eyes on the verge of rolling. “The nearest Reach colony is two perigees from here. We’re not currently at war with anyone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t seem to reassure the jumpy Alnair very much – she nodded along, but she looked nervous all the same.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can… investigate?” Elmazi raised her eyebrows and stared at Alnair. Her tense shoulders relaxed and she smiled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, Sergeant! We would be very grateful.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Elmazi replied. “Go tell your section to keep clear of the vents. I’ll… uh… bring a security team in to sweep it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alnair nodded and left the office without saying another word, leaving Elmazi alone at her desk, staring at her terminal. She was about to boot up the terminal to send a report in to Commander Enkeza, but thought better of it. The Commander was generally in a bad mood anyway, and he’d get even worse if she dared to bring something trivial to his attention. Instead, she’d investigate first, then prepare the report. It was simpler that way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elmazi stood up, checked the service pistol holstered at her hip, and began the long walk to the HVAC intake access on the other side of the main compound.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span>The rust bloods that formed the bulk of the HVAC maintenance staff had all cleared out by the time Elmazi got to the access hatch – one of them had hung a “DO NOT ACCESS” sign helpfully on the primary intake maintenance door. Elmazi quickly checked her pistol – it was a habit more than anything else – and opened the sealed door, locking it in maintenance access mode so it wouldn’t shut behind her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite Alnair paranoia about someone being in the vents, what she actually meant was that someone might be in the access corridors that ran alongside the major intake systems. The vents themselves were large too small for a fully grown troll to fit in… so unless Alnair thought they had a sudden invasion of grubs in this colony world populated exclusively by adults, it was the access corridors that Elmazi was checking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t like the access corridors. Or much of the colony building, to be honest. The cramped quarters – the way that the walls pressed in around her and the dim red emergency lighting flattened out all the shadows. It reminded her of some things she tried to forget. A penal facility aboard a Fleet carrier… back before the Legiscorpus Council had made their decision. Something about the red lighting in particular set her mind on edge.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wished that Alnair had been a little bit more specific about where she’d heard this mysterious noise. “Primary intake ducts” was a broad category that included a lot of ground, and Elmazi didn’t want to spend the rest of the day walking around in the half-light looking for nothing. Alnair was probably talking about the central HVAC control though – as the Over-Specialist, that would be her main focus during her shift, and there was a security terminal there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Muttering to herself, Elmazi followed the marker signs on the ground until she finally reached the point where the corridor opened up into the central HVAC control room. The lighting was still the same dull red, but at least it was less claustrophobic in here. In one corner of the room sat the security console, its humming fan barely audible over the low thrum of the HVAC systems that seemed to be coming from inside her head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The terminal was locked out, but Elmazi’s security override changed that.</span>
</p>
<p class="amberterminal">
  <span class="terminaltextamber">welcome to central HVAC security command</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">enter command</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">|log activity -2hr</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The resulting string of reports was mostly innocuous on the face – the HVAC crew moving around and tripping the various motion sensors and thermals. Elmazi scrolled through the list, looking for anything that looked out of the ordinary… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t something that was <em>there</em> so much as something that <em>wasn’t.</em> Over and over again on the log, there was one particular sensor array that kept reporting back an error, explaining that it was offline and asking the user to please contact sensor maintenance immediately.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a start, anyway.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span>All the way on the other side of the HVAC access tunnels from where she’d started – that was where the error had been coming from. It took Elmazi a good ten minutes to walk over there. There wasn’t anything immediately and obviously out of the ordinary – the corridors all looked exactly the same. The same bare metal walls and all lit by the same red security lighting. It wasn’t even worth mentally making a note of. The vents along the sides led to the actual ventilation system, providing access for cleaning drones.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One of the vents was slightly ajar. It wasn’t much – just barely off-center – but Elmazi had been a Legiscorpus investigator for too long in her past life to not see it. The vent wasn’t even held by a screw – someone had stuck it to the wall with some kind of adhesive putty. Elmazi pried the grate off with her fingers and set it down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The vent on the other side had a small bag set about a foot back from the edge. Inside the bag was a service pistol not dissimilar from her own.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Placing the pistol back into the bag, Elmazi took it and set the grate back into place with the putty.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She needed to talk to the Commander.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, not the Commander. He was an idiot who wouldn’t take this seriously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She needed to talk to the Sub-Commander.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span>She walked down the corridor, a half-step behind Kissai, and wished the Sub-Commander would stop being so damn stubborn. She wasn’t sure exactly what a hidden pistol in the vents meant, but she didn’t even need her long sweeps of experience to know it wasn’t anything good.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“God damn it, why’s Outhro not at his post?!” she yelled, anger flaring up. Outhro Remlet was assigned to guard duty and that meant he stayed standing there unless he was relieved. There were protocols to follow!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So go find him, Sergeant. Go give him a really good talking-to or whatever. I don’t have time for this,” Kissai said, her voice edged with a weary sarcasm that Elmazi was sick of hearing. Whether or not the Sub-Commander took this seriously didn’t matter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elmazi hung back, waiting for Kissai to get the Commander on the intercom. Once she was done with whatever this was, they really did need to talk. She didn’t trust the Commander to handle things properly, but she <em>did</em> trust Kissai. For all her irritating qualities, at the end of the day she was a straightforward person who would handle things right. The Commander wasn’t – he always had some kind of political game in mind, even out here in the Reaches.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The office was dark, and that didn’t make any sense. Elmazi started to move forward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The light flickered on… and she heard Kissai screaming.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elmazi had her pistol out and ran into the office. She was immediately hit with the smell of it – the thick, rusty smell of new blood. It was everywhere – jade splattered along the desk and chair – drag-marks that ran along to the middle of the floor. And the body of Commander Mearto Enkeza lay there in the center of it all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She checked the office – swept the pistol left and right looking for any sign of the person who’d done this. But nothing was there – the whole place was empty.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kissai had stopped screaming, but she was on her knees whimpering in the middle of the floor – Elmazi holstered her pistol and ran over to the Sub-Commander. She needed to do something – with the Commander dead, that put Kissai in charge. That meant two things – one was that everyone would be looking to her for guidance, especially now. The other was that Elmazi was now directly responsible for her safety.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She put an arm around the new Commander’s shoulders, leaning in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Commander, we need to get you out of here,” she whispered. “I’ll handle the scene here, but we all need you to be okay here.” Kissai nodded without a word and allowed herself to be pulled up and led back out of the office. Her eyes were wide and unblinking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elmazi made sure to engage the security lockdown on Mearto’s door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mearto – that’s all he was now. <em>Commander</em> relegated to <em>former</em> in the space of a bullet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s get you back to your quarters, Commander,” Elmazi said to Kissai as she half-carried the troll down the hallway. “I’ll take care of this.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Whispers in the Dark</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>5th Day of the 7th Bilunar Perigee, a few hours before the murder</b>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Over-Specialist Alnair Allite was afraid of the dark. Actually, she was afraid of a lot of things – things on the colony specifically. She was afraid of the long access tunnels with their eerie red lighting. She was afraid of the way that sounds echoed around the tunnels and seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. She was afraid of the strange, haunted way that she felt whenever she had to be in there by herself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shivered at the maintenance terminal in spite of the heat of the tunnels. Alnair wasn’t technically <em>supposed</em> to be using it to talk to anyone, but who was going to check up on her? Especially when the person on the other end of the line was Cosmis Valtor, the person in charge of routing station communications in the first place!</span>
</p>
<p class="amberterminal">
  <span class="terminaltextamber">AA &gt; I’m telling yOO, it’s dOwnright spOOky here!</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">AA &gt; All my techs are Off in the tunnels and I’m here all alOne.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">CV &lt; A fair predicament indeed, fair lady!</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">AA &gt; GOd yOO’re such a gOOf! :)</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">CV &lt; T’was not mine intention to make thou laugh!</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">CV &lt; Tho I will take it as a noble success!</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">AA &gt; Yay! LOOk, I’m getting wOrried abOOt being dOwn here every day.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">AA &gt; Is there any way for yOO to… yOO knOw…</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">AA &gt; Check the Felt Or sOmething?</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">CV &lt; The Felt be not something to trifle with, fair lady.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">CV &lt; In truth it can be a foul beast to deal with. And what would you have me look for?</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">AA &gt; YOO knOw – weird stuff!</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">CV &lt; Verily I know not what thou meanest by “weird stuff!”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">AA &gt; Oh stOp it! People being where they shOOldn’t be and stuff like that!</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">CV &lt; Very well, fair lady – givest me one moment of your time.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">CosmisValtor changed status to AWAY</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alnair leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, trying to will away the panic that was always boiling just below the surface. This kind of thing wasn’t what the recruiter had talked about when they convinced her that a life in the Alternian Fleet was definitely for her. It was her ticket off her homeworld, they said. Being hatched as a low-class rust-blood on a colony that was basically a glorified mining asteroid… that was about as close to predestination as you could get!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Fleet was her chance to get out of all of that! She’d be trained in valuable technical skills! She’d have a chance to go to train at one of the universities on Alternia, even! And at the end of all of it – once she’d fulfilled the minimum service commitment – she would be offered a chance at proper Alternian citizenship! For a low-blood hatched on one of the innumerable Outer Colonies, it was a chance at a dream. She’d join the rest of them… low-bloods living on their stipends the same as high-bloods! The chance to be a part of a grand social experiment that had spanned galaxies!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, not everyone got to be a part of that right away. You had to earn your place, they told her. It was the natural order of things – that only the ones who really wanted it would be accepted. The rest… well, the life on the colonies wasn’t so bad. Maybe she didn’t get to be a citizen automatically like some of the more connected trolls did… but… that was okay, right? Resources were limited – you couldn’t just let everyone who wanted go to Alternia. Not the ones who hadn’t even been hatched there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sighed and tapped nervously at her console. She wished she’d asked one of the technicians to stay behind. As Over-Specialist, she was technically in charge of the ten Specialists assigned to this maintenance section. Effectively this meant she was just passing information back and forth between them and the Corporal who’d drawn the short straw and ended up with babysitting duty as the acting maintenance Section Chief.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he didn’t give two shits about anything beyond being able to do as little work as possible, so Alnair was basically Section Chief herself. She really didn’t <em>want</em> to be – it made her as nervous as being out in the tunnels in the first place – but it’s what she was.</span>
</p>
<p class="amberterminal">
  <span class="terminaltextamber">CV &lt; Art thou there, my fair lady?</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">AA &gt; Yes, I’m here. What did yOO find?</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">CV &lt; Why, ‘tis a most strange set of happenstance!</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">CV &lt; Some knave hast turned off the sensor array for grid 7-9A!</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">AA &gt; Oh really? What’s that abOOt?</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">CV &lt; Fair lady, if mine knowledge extended beyond I would have said it forthwith.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">AA &gt; Okay – thanks, COsmis!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alnair closed the terminal’s messenger program and slowly pushed herself to standing. The last thing she wanted was to have to poke around in the tunnels by herself but… something was wrong. She steeled herself – they didn’t issue the technicians firearms, but she had a pretty heavy flashlight with a heavy metal casing! Hefting her flashlight, Alnair walked back into the access tunnels, toward grid 7-9A.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fine… just another sensor malfunction,” Alnair muttered to herself as she walked back into the maintenance access tunnels.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="alnair">It’s okay – the only people back here are the ones you told to be here.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which was no one – the assignments for the day hadn’t put anyone near that grid point. Maybe that needed to change – if the sensors were out, then someone needed to fix them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="alnair">Not like stuff breaking is weird here!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was true enough – the colony was perpetually falling apart. The disadvantage of being in the Reaches – you didn’t get a lot of replacement parts and you were always working with equipment that was too old and overburdened for the demands placed on it. She’d grown up in a place not too dissimilar, so Alnair was used to making due with far less than she would like.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But she’d had the sensor arrays checked just a week ago. There were a lot of areas where broken equipment could be let slide, but the HVAC systems weren’t one of them. Although the atmosphere on Colony World 4729D was <em>technically</em> breathable, it was only just. If the ventilation and air processing systems broke down, everyone would start to develop a whole bunch of problems breathing. Breathing, in Alnair’s opinion, was one of the most critical things one could do in life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She knew that the systems had been checked the day before, which meant either something had broken down in the space of a day-cycle… or someone was doing something out here. Alnair had no idea <em>what</em> anyone would be doing in her maintenance tunnels, but that was exactly where her mind went.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clutching the flashlight and walking slowly, Alnair reached the grid junction.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was nothing there. No one lurking around the corner. No one waiting to jump out and kill her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="alnair">That’s the Army’s job, after all…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She pushed that down and kept checking around the corners. Nothing. Feeling only the slightest amount of relief, Alnair turned to walk back to her duty station. Three more hours and she could go get something in the mess hall and go watch an old movie when they screened it for all the low-blood techs. That was comforting at least – that sense of belonging.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><em>Someone was moving.</em></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A rustling noise in the tunnels, and the sound of metal contacting metal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alnair didn’t bother to investigate this time – she ran back to the nearest access hatch and went to go find the head of security.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>A few hours later</b>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At least Sergeant Pyrane had been willing to take her seriously. She did exactly what she was told – she gathered up her section and told them that security had to conduct a routine sweep and they were all going to the mess hall for a while. The fact that security didn’t conduct routine sweeps was something that no one bothered to mention – the short break from the grueling work of keeping the aging HVAC systems online was worth whatever suspension of disbelief the technicians had to engage in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alnair was just beginning to think she might end up with the rest of her shift off when Sergeant Pyrane came rushing into the mess hall and grabbed her by the shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I need you to come with me,” the sergeant said urgently. Alnair looked at her section technicians, shrugged, and stood up. They walked out together without another word.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was only once they were clear of the mess hall and in an empty corridor that Sergeant Pyrane spoke to her again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you know that there’s a sensor array offline in the HVAC tunnels?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alnair felt the hairs on the back of her neck prick up. “Yes – grid section 7-9A. That’s where I heard the noise I told you about – that’s why I asked if you could investigate. What did you find?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sergeant shook her head sternly. “Never mind that. I need a list of everyone who could’ve shut down the sensor array, and a list of everyone who could’ve gotten access to that part of the tunnels in the last few hours.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shook her head – the sergeant was being unreasonable! “Sir, it’s going to be a very long list. Anyone with basic maintenance access can get in… and it’s not hard to circumvent the security bypass.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sergeant Pyrane was staring at her, mouth agape. “You’re telling me you just kind of let people walk into our fucking air vents?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No! Not like that! I’m just saying we have a bunch of technicians! Keeping the air clean in this place is more than a full-time job!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sergeant seemed to relax a little, but not much. Something else was wrong here.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sir, what’s wrong? I know I heard something in the vents – I’ve been doing this long enough to know what I’m supposed to hear in those tunnels and… that wasn’t it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sergeant looked around, then back at Alnair. She seemed to be gauging whether or not to tell her something – her brow furrowed and her eyes scanning Alnair’s face. Finally, she nodded and spoke in a low voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Specialist… the Commander of this facility was just murdered, and I need to find out why.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Dirty Mirror</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="blurry-text3">It had taken two trolls to pry the pistol out of her grip. She hadn’t even been looking at them – hadn’t been looking at anything. The smell was thick and heavy in her nostrils – that combination of the sour-sweet tang of the gunpowder and the rusty smell of…
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>She knew in that moment that she would never forget this.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Fleet security was quick to respond, but they hadn’t been quick enough. A few minutes faster and then none of this would’ve been necessary. Maybe no one would’ve had to die – maybe no one would have to wake up in the middle of the night clawing for a gun that wasn’t there.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Or thinking about one that was.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>In a desk drawer, just…</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Waiting…</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>Right after the murder</b>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kissai wasn’t sure how she’d ended up back in her quarters. Of course she’d walked there – that much was obvious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="kissai">Elmazi walked me there after…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When she was still a wiggler, one day she’d gone down to the docks in her hometown. She’d walked by the water and eventually she came to the remains of an old Alternian warship that had run aground. She told herself it was a warship anyway – it was probably only an old transport. The metal had been rusting in the sea air for sweeps, and when she got close enough it had a strong, rusty smell that seemed to crawl up into her nose and stick.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That smell was so thick in the air – the same as the last time. So strange that her mind would draw those odd parallels through the vastness of time and space. From a beach on Alternia to a Fleet carrier to a colony world that was about as far from her hometown as it was physically possible to be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="kissai">He’s dead…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When she walked in the office and turned on the light, she had no idea how to process what she was seeing. The smell had already given it away – should have already given it away. Had she been aware of it at first, or was it something that existed more in the realm of her imagination than in the world or actual physical reality? The question barely even occurred to her, because as soon as the light had snapped on overhead she’d seen everything all at once.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d fallen to her knees and she’d screamed. She remembered that much. Elmazi came rushing in after. She’d had a pistol out but it was too late for that – whoever had been willing to do such violence had already gone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’d shot the Commander, but not just that… they’d dragged his body along the floor. Positioned it directly in the middle of the room – the blood seeped out of his corpse and pooled all around. It had been everywhere.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="kissai">And…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it wasn’t just that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was the note.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She hadn’t told Elmazi – hadn’t told anyone. She’d practically stepped on the piece of paper when she walked in, and when she’d dropped to her knees it was right there in front of her. Without thinking, Kissai had grabbed the paper. While Elmazi had swept through the room and Kissai had screamed… she’d grasped the note close to her and shoved it away into a pocket.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Why?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t know why. Kissai didn’t even think about the note again until after she’d already returned to her quarters and closed the door. Leaned up against the cool metal of the door and sitting on the floor, she’d pulled out the half-crumpled piece of paper from her pocket. It didn’t have any blood on it – it had been carefully placed after the murder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t address her by name, but it was written to her. Two lines on a piece of rough paper, written in a block printing she didn’t recognize…</span>
</p>
<p class="paper">

  <span class="papertext">Congratulations on your promotion, Commander.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="papertext">And don’t worry – the blood will wash out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kissai crumpled the paper in a fist and bent over, pulling her knees into her chest and sobbing. It wasn’t even that the Commander – the former Commander – was dead. She hadn’t been friends with him – hadn’t even liked him very much. That wasn’t the point!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="kissai">It feels like last time!</span>
</p><hr/>
<p class="blurry-text3">“I don’t know!” She was screaming – why was she screaming? Who was she even talking to? The security personnel that pried the gun from her hands? To the Over-Sergeant who pulled her aside and sat her down on the floor – handed her a blanket and told her to wrap herself up in it.
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“It’ll help with the shock” they’d said. She had no idea if that was true or not, but she’d dutifully wrapped herself in the blanket and sat there while the world kept moving around her. At some point, a teal-blood wearing the insignia of the Legislacerators had shown up. Kissai technically held the same rank as her – both of them Lieutenants under the Fleet. But everyone knew the truth – that Kissai Zalska’s fate was very much in the hands of this woman.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Why don’t we start with the simple questions,” the Legislacerator spoke in a low, calming voice. A voice that was long practiced and tuned to just this purpose. “Why don’t you tell me your name, rank, and duty station. For my records.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“My name is Lieutenant Kissai Zalska… I’m the damage control officer aboard the Imperial Carrier…”</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span>She was the Commander in charge of Colony World 4729D. Protocol was that in the death or removal of the Commander, the second-in-command would immediately be promoted to the rank of Commander and placed in charge of the facility. If they were to die or be removed… then the head of security would take their place. After that, the chain of succession got a bit hazy. An event that wiped out three of the primary command staff tended to devolve quickly into chaos and involve a lot of troops on the ground.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a protocol to follow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kissai struggled to her feet, pushing off against the door and working her way up to standing. Her feet tingled, and she wondered how long it’d been since she sat down in the first place. No doubt that Elmazi was securing the scene of the murder – maybe trying to find witnesses. Elmazi Pyrane was nothing if not reliable – one of the few people in the colony that Kissai trusted <em>almost</em> completely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="kissai">But… not <em>completely…</em></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That  was something she didn’t think she’d be able to say about anyone. Never again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="kissai">Protocol…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She walked slowly to her terminal and shifted herself into the chair, turning on the power to the terminal and waiting for it to boot up. There was a process to follow, after all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the event of the death of a member of the command staff, the commander on duty will immediately file a report back to Section Command on Alternia. That was standard – the same across the Fleet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It would’ve been easier on a Fleet ship – they had access to technicians who could dive into the Deep Felt and use it to send a message nearly instantaneously back to Alternia from basically anywhere. Even the Far Reaches were only a few minutes distant from Alternia with the right lines of communication.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But this remote colony world didn’t have access to the Deep Felt. Kissai had a Felt interface – it was standard for most officers in the Fleet – but she hated to use the wetware and had no experience with the Deep Felt. And even if she was willing and qualified, the equipment just wasn’t present on the colony. That meant using a quick-wave connection back to Alternia, skipping to the nearest facility that <em>did</em> have access to the Deep Felt and waiting for a response. That could take a perigee, with another passing before getting a response.</span>
</p>
<p class="amberterminal">
  <span class="terminaltextamber">|Initiate SecCom -relay</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">|User: kzalska8467321</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">|Password: **********</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">connection established to 2nd Fleet Section Command via relay system</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">please be aware that all communications will be delayed</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">estimated response time: 1.89 perigees</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">|File report</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">|Priority: Critical</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">|Security: High</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">KZ &gt; ...this is Commander Kissai Zalska of Colony World 4729D</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">KZ &gt; ...I have enacted succession protocol due to the death of Commander Mearto Enkeza</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">KZ &gt; ...Commander Enkeza was killed in his office on 5d7p474</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">KZ &gt; ...Sergeant Elmazi Pyrane is heading investigation</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">KZ &gt; ...do not currently have suspects</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">KZ &gt; ...placing facility on enhanced security protocols</span>
  <span></span><br/>
<span class="terminaltextamber">KZ &gt; ...will inform of progress</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">KZ &gt; ...please advice when able</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And that was basically it – she’d done her main duty as the new Commander, as far as the Fleet was concerned. Report back and wait for a response. Second Fleet would file the report away with everything else that was happening on the colonies – a murder that was probably one of hundreds, if not thousands. There was nothing about Colony World 4729D that warranted a second glance from the higher-ups in the Fleet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reports would be filed away for archiving and they would be on their own. Whatever investigation – whatever results and whether or not they ever found out who killed the former Commander. None of it would matter in the slightest to the Fleet because it was all handily contained on a colony that existed beyond the comprehension of most of the people back on Alternia.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kissai leaned all the way back in her chair and stared at the ceiling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><em>Congratulations on your promotion, Commander.</em></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A feeling boiled inside of her gut that was a combination of curiosity and raw terror. Someone had left that note specifically for her. Why? What possible reason was there for any of this?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kissai closed her eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The smell lingered in her nose – the phantom of rust that was never really gone.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. What's Done in Darkness</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>6th Day of the 7th Bilunar Perigee</b>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The others were being quiet about it – and to some extent that’s what ██████ had been hoping for. Ultimately it didn’t matter all that much, because at the end of the day the plan would work regardless. It was, after all, bigger than any one person. ██████ smiled to themselves – the beginning was going to be the hardest part. After that, everything would fall into place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had been a full day since the deed was done. It had been bloodier than ██████ had expected. They’d been ready for the violence – for the way that it would feel to pull the trigger and know that Mearto Enkeza had finally taken his last breath. That was, in many ways, a relief. The former Commander was so much more than he seemed to everyone – so much less too. ██████ sighed to themselves – it didn’t matter anymore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>██████ was still shaking from it. They hadn’t been ready for the violence – for the way it would feel to pull the trigger and realize that they’d taken another troll’s life. No matter how much of a horrible person he’d been, Mearto was still another living being. ██████ had thrown up right after – fortunately they’d been able to make it back to their quarters first. They were still shaking, even a day later.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Here, the middle of the primary mess hall, ██████ felt almost invisible. They mostly kept to themselves, since meeting with their comrades in the open would raise suspicion that would prevent them from doing what they needed to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Commander Kissai would be an important part of the plan, even if she didn’t realize it yet. ██████ had already discussed this at length with their comrades. The idea of the plan hinging on any one individual was an uncomfortable one that none of them wanted to fully admit was a necessity. But that was how things were – because the colony administrator had certain powers and access to certain things that would make the process easier.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So not essential in the sense that it couldn’t be done without her cooperation, but important in the sense that it would make things a lot easier. That was something to consider.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is anyone sitting here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>██████ looked up to see a tall, lanky troll with horns that twisted into little curls at the end. His name… ██████ couldn’t quite remember it. They thought they remembered but they weren’t sure.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>██████ motioned to the empty seat and explained that they couldn’t, for the life of them, remember his name.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh – Cosmis! I remember you though, you’re ██████! We met ████████████ when you were working on ████████████████████████. It’s nice to see you again!” Cosmis grinned and extended a hand – ██████ didn’t take it, but Cosmis only shrugged and returned to his food.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cosmis – of course. He was involved in the station communications division. His name had come up in the course of their planning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you feeling okay? You look kinda pale,” Cosmis said as he took a bite of the grubcake he was holding. “You want some of this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>██████ shook their head. “████████████████████████████████████. ████████████████████████.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah? Geez, I’m sorry about that! Yeah, ███████ ██████ can be a real asshole to work for. You ever think about coming over to coms? It’d be a re-train, but they can do that on-colony. Sort of… I mean, you wouldn’t be certified but no one out here even cares. You could do your cert when you rotate back to Fleet, yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>██████ smiled thinly and nodded. The idea had no appeal to them whatsoever.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you hear about what happened yesterday? I mean, I think they’re keeping it quiet but I heard what happened on the coms. I mean, I didn’t exactly <em>hear</em> what happened but I saw the com logs. Well, not the com logs but I saw the log request tags and I can figure it out from there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“██████████████,” ██████ said. They didn’t want to tip their hand that they knew exactly where this was going.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cosmis leaned in and their voice dropped to a whisper. “Commander Enkeza got killed yesterday! I don’t know exactly how, but there’s a certain com tag that they’re supposed to use when that kind of thing happens. And that was definitely on one of the outgoing messages from Sub-Commander Zalska’s terminal yesterday. And no one’s talked to Commander Enkeza since yesterday!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“███████████████████████████████,” ██████ said quietly. “██████████████████”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know why they wouldn’t announce it right away!” Cosmis shook his head. “I bet they’re trying to figure out who the killer was and there’s some kind of secret conspiracy!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>██████ laughed and Cosmis shrugged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re right – it’s stupid. Probably he killed himself. It wouldn’t be the first time someone did. Still, it’s weird how no one has said anything. Maybe they’re gonna make an announcement later. Or maybe it’s all a big cover-up! Or maybe they’re gonna replace the Commander with a body double and act like nothing ever happened! We should be on the lookout – if the Commander shows up and says he was just sick and that’s why he sounds a little bit different… then that’s when we know!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>██████ told Cosmis to shut up, and Cosmis’ face fell.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess you’re right.” Looking deflated, Cosmis finished the rest of his meal in silence and stood up. “Sorry, ██████, I’ll catch you later. Maybe if coms ever works with ████████████ again, we can chat!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>██████ half-smiled and nodded in a way that they hoped looked non-committal.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span>██████ was back in their quarters in the space typically occupied by the █████████. Fortunately, the position as a ████████ rated private quarters, so they weren’t typically disturbed during their off-duty shifts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They fell back on the standard-issue cot and closed their eyes, trying desperately to blot out the image of the Commander’s head – blown out like a piece of over-ripe fruit that’d been sitting in the sun for too long. ██████ hadn’t been in the Army – hadn’t signed on to be a killer – but sometimes there were things that were necessary in the service of a greater cause. That was something that ██████ had become intimately familiar with in the last few sweeps.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t working – closing their eyes wasn’t blocking out the images. Probably nothing would ever do that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Necessary. ██████ said it to themselves again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the background, the intercom system blared to life – the chime that preceded a facility-wide announcement. ██████ sat up on their cot, their heart suddenly racing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Did they leave evidence? Was there something tying them back to the scene of the crime? Were Legislacerators about to break down their door?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The last thought was especially ludicrous – the colony had only a basic security force headed up by Sergeant Elmazi Pyrane. The disgraced teal blood had such a short-sighted view of her own environment that ██████ doubted she’d even do much in the way of investigating. The list of people that would potentially want the Commander to die was, after all, a long one. If ██████ was really lucky, maybe they’d lean into the idea that the whole thing was a suicide – the valiant Commander driven to take their own life by the pressures of existing on this backwater colony world so far from the light of Alternia.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a ludicrous story, of course, but that didn’t mean anything. The Fleet would work to preserve a narrative that spoke to individual fault rather than the systemic issues that the Commander had represented. The sweeps that he’d been allowed free reign to run his own little empire within the Empire.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The intercom crackled again and a voice began speaking – ██████ recognized it as the voice of the Sub-Commander – surely the new Commander now, if they were following standard protocol.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Attention all personnel of Colony Command, this is Commander Kissai Zalska. Yesterday during the evening shift cycle, Commander Mearto Enkeza was found dead in his office. Effective immediately, I am assuming command of this facility per Alternian Fleet protocols.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She paused and there was a heavy silence… and ██████ found themselves smiling a little. It was unpleasant, and it would stick with them for a long time… but it had also needed to be done. Kissai Zalska was now officially in command, and maybe she would be more receptive. At the very least she wouldn’t have the baggage that the old Commander brought along.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We are conducting an investigation into this death,” Kissai continued over the intercom system. “If you have any information that will help us discover who killed Commander Enkeza, contact our head of security, Sergeant Pyrane, immediately.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>██████’s breath caught – did they miss anything? Did they leave something behind? Was there evidence? Would someone talk?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But no – they had nothing. If they had more than the obvious fact that the Commander had been murdered then a security team would’ve already kicked ██████’s door down. They took a deep breath – they would trust in their comrades. No matter how this ended, the former Commander had to go.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The intercom continued – “stay alert, stay aware, and report anything out of the ordinary to security immediately. Remember, we are all part of the same Empire.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>██████ almost laughed out loud at the last line – she couldn’t <em>possibly</em> believe any of that. The only thing any of them had in common with those who ruled over them was the fact they were all technically the same species. That was why it was so important – the most of the ones on the colony had more in common with the least than they would ever have with the fuschia bloods who made the rules they were all forced to play by.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was fine. ██████ leaned back and stretched out on their cot. In the end, they would all be held to account for their crimes – and if anyone among the lower blood castes stood in the way, they would meet with the same fate.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Assumption of Responsibilities</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>6th Day of the 7th Bilunar Perigee</b>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Kissai woke up that morning, everything was still real. She struggled through the thick haze of the receding nightmare – through the fading smell of burnt gunpowder and the cloying, metallic odor of blood. As it dropped back and reality asserted itself again, she realized once more…</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="kissai">It’s still real. It still happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was in charge of the colony now. A thousand military workers and support personnel were now under her direct supervision. Even though the actual mining and production operations were largely done via drone, the number of trolls required to keep everything running and provide for all the needs of the colony itself was substantial.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now, any one of them could be a murderer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="kissai">Who can I trust?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kissai closed her eyes tightly, snugging herself down into the sleep-pile as if it would suddenly provide her with a way to escape. More than anything, she didn’t want to face this. If she could just ride out another couple sweeps in the colony, she’d have her stipend boost and she could go back to Alternia. Or maybe back to a slightly less awful colony world. That came with its own set of problems, but at least it wouldn’t be here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="kissai">Maybe one of the named colonies…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She let out a loud, steady groan and pressed her face deeper into the pile. Her head hurt and she didn’t want to face any of this. Elmazi had already begun the process of investigating the murder and securing the scene. Late last night-shift, the body had been covertly moved to the medical facility and placed under the care of Specialist Maccoy, the medical technician who served as the colony’s primary doctor. The crime scene itself had been sealed off and placed under guard by trolls that Elmazi trusted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one in the colony at large knew that the Commander had been murdered yet, but Kissai knew that rumors would spread quickly. It wasn’t possible for something this big to happen on such a small colony and have no one find out. Most of the trolls lived in the same command facility, and even those who were stationed in the outlying mining posts were rotated back periodically and often in and out of the command center for various reasons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was like trying to hold water in a perforated straining device – there was no way to avoid it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She would need to address the colony soon.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Kissai was still half-dressed when Elmazi knocked on the door – she let her head of security in without a word and went over to sit down at the desk in the corner. Elmazi eyed her warily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Commander, you can’t continue to isolate yourself like this,” she said quietly. “It’s not good for morale.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kissai laughed at that. “Morale? Really? I’d think having an unknown killer on the loose is bad for morale too, but that’s just me I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Elmazi was phased by the comment, she didn’t show it. “Regardless, you need to put some clothes on and we need to talk about what we’re going to do next.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="kissai">What we’re going to do?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hadn’t really thought it through. The fact that she was now in command of the facility hadn’t even really sunk in yet, much less the next course of action.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I already sent the report back to Second Fleet,” she said quickly. “They’ll advise us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was the report-back time?” Elmazi asked – Kissai felt herself bristle at that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Almost two perigees.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elmazi had walked over to the storage unit in the other corner that held Kissai’s uniforms and pulled out a full set or trousers and blouse. She tossed the clothing to Kissai, who just managed to catch it without looking like she was caught completely caught unawares.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Put these on,” Elmazi said – it wasn’t a suggestion. “You’re going to show face on the command deck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kissai was about to protest, but she saw Elmazi’s face and decided it was better not to say anything. Standing up silently, Kissai began to pull the clothes on and button everything up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” she said, her voice quick and sharp. “I’ll go there and reassure everyone. And what the fuck next?” She finished the last two buttons on the blouse and shot Elmazi a defiant look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="kissai">What are you gonna do about it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elmazi glared. “You’re going to address the colony and explain what happened. You’re going to ask for their help in finding the killer. You’re going to reassure them that their Commander gives a half a shit about their lives.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The term <em>command deck</em> originated with the actual deck of the Fleet ships, but in the command center it was just a specific large room at the top of a small tower overlooking the facility. From there, operations and communications throughout the whole colony were managed. That meant there were always at least a couple Fleet personnel on duty at any given time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A couple personnel was generally all that were on duty, actually. Someone was always assigned to monitor communications, and there was usually someone else tasked with nominally being in command. If the facility were larger or more developed, that would typically be a jade-blood Lieutenant. Maybe an olive-blood Sergeant or Over-Sergeant. But this facility didn’t have any of those – Elmazi’s case being the one odd exception. There were hundreds of technical specialists in various fields, with their supervisors being drawn directly from their ranks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So when Kissai and Elmazi walked onto the command deck that morning, the only people around were one of the gold-blood trolls responsible for communication (a short, scrawny-looking woman with long, straight horns whose name Kissai couldn’t remember) and Outhro Remlet, the guard who’d supposed to have been watching the door to the Commander’s office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kissai glared at Outhro as she walked in, and he flinched and looked down. He’d been, as it turned out, in the mess hall getting something to eat. It was a grotesque violation of protocol, and if it were a Fleet ship she’d have him busted down to the lowest duty she could think of. As it stood, he was one of the few people she trusted to not be the killer, since he had been confirmed to be in the mess hall at the time by multiple witnesses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s this other one?” Kissai directed the question at Elmazi, but the response came from the gold-blood sitting at her station.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Specialist Laurel Tallai, Commander. I was on duty during the shift that Commander Enkeza was killed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kissai stopped and looked closely at the gold-blood. That meant that she was another one that could be trusted at least to not be the killer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Specialists, did either of you speak to anyone about what happened yet?” Kissai directed the question at both Laurel and Outhro. Outhro shook his head, still looking ashamed. Laurel nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told my matesprit what happened,” she said evenly. “They won’t say anything to anyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kissai shook her head. “It doesn’t matter – I’m about to make an announcement.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="kissai">Everyone’s about to know…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whether that would work to their advantage or not remained to be seen, but she couldn’t do this alone. She didn’t know why someone would do that to the Commander… or why they would leave the note directed to her. There were a lot of things that Kissai didn’t know, and she wasn’t going to find them out by keeping to herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sat down at the terminal in front of the facility-wide intercom system and drew in a deep breath. Held it. Let it out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then she picked up the microphone and began to speak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Attention all personnel of Colony Command, this is Commander Kissai Zalska.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Kissai set the microphone down and stared off out the windows at the barren terrain beyond the colony facility. It wasn’t completely uninhabitable – the Alternian terraforming project had seen to that – but it was hostile. Small bits of scrub grew wild and most of the life that had been introduced by the terraformers was microscopic – necessary for the ecosystem to continue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="kissai">Necessary for the ecosystem to continue…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was how all of this felt. She would assume command of the colony because it was necessary to have a commander. She would find the killer (killers?) because it was necessary that the personnel she watched over feel safe. The operations would continue because it was necessary to not being summarily declared rebels and turned into a glassine mass by orbital bombardment, or ripped to shreds by rust-blood commandos.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Commander?” Elmazi had been talking to her, but she’d missed it. She turned her head toward the security chief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Sergeant? What is it?” She leaned back in the chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I might make a recommendation?” She sounded hesitant – it was getting annoying. Why did she even give a fuck? She was already out in the ass-end of nowhere – what difference did any of this make anymore?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just fucking say it. Call me Kissai. I don’t fucking care. Does it look like any of this matters right now?” She looked around and saw the shocked expressions on Laurel and Outhro’s faces. “Oh stow that hoofbeast shit. The Commander was turned into a bloody smear and I want to know why. What’s your idea, Sergeant?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay… Commander… Kissai. I believe we should convene a meeting of those who have knowledge of the murder and who are definitely <em>not</em> suspects. Those we can verify the locations of. Myself, you, these two here–” she gestured to the two Specialists “–and also Medical Specialist Maccoy, since he was confirmed to have been in the medical bay at the time and examined the body.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="kissai">That’s…</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="kissai">...actually a really good idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, Sergeant.” Kissai nodded. “We’ll meet in the morgue at the beginning of the night shift. Arrive separately, and don’t tell anyone where you’re going. If you’re asked, just explain it was on orders from myself or the Sergeant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And just like that, Kissai Zalska found herself falling headlong into a world she knew next to nothing about.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Protocol</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>6th Day of the 7th Bilunar Perigee, night shift</b>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elmazi wished she could say that the morgue was something they didn’t have to use until now. That would’ve been comforting, perhaps, but it wasn’t true. The nature of the work they did on the colony claimed some from time to time. The isolation that bore down on all of their minds claimed more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The morgue was in the basement of the main colony facility – the same one that held the command center and the majority of the officer housing. It had occurred to Elmazi on many occasions that they were basically living on top of their own dead. It was strangely appropriate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the elevator door slid open, the others were already standing there. Kissai looked shaken, and Outhro looked like he was mostly trying to disappear into the walls. Laurel – the com specialist – was standing there staring right at her. She was about the same height as Elmazi, but built like a rail. Elmazi glared at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it, Specialist?” She didn’t try to conceal the anger in her voice – anger that wasn’t necessarily directed at Laurel, but it was there all the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Laurel shook her head. “Nothing, Sergeant. I’m just wondering what comes next.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Elmazi had the chance to really dig into that particular statement, a short, drawn-out looking troll poked his head out through the doors to the morgue. That was Medical Specialist Jameth Maccoy – a gold-blood with gently-curved horns that looked almost delicate. He had a perpetually grizzled look – probably a side-effect of the sometimes-grim nature of his work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re all here?” His voice was gruff and terse – he didn’t want to waste time speaking when he didn’t have to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Specialist.” Kissai answered, her tone equally short. “Can we get this over with?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jameth motioned them through the door and they walked inside the morgue, a room that was only about the size of a set of large-ish personal quarters. One wall was lined with a series of holding chambers for the deceased. In the center of the room was a table, and on that table was the body of Mearto Enkeza.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kissai was dragging behind the rest, and Elmazi could see the disgust in her face. And it was mixed with something else that she couldn’t place – Elmazi made a note of it before she turned back to the Medical Specialist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Specialist Maccoy, can you explain your findings?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jameth shrugged and reached out to grab a clipboard from the edge of the table. “Sure. He’s dead, Sergeant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elmazi shot him a withering glare and he blanched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, Sergeant – just trying to deal with everything, you know?” It sounded like a lie, but she wasn’t going to press him on it. “He was shot at close range with a standard service pistol – three shots to the chest and one to the head. That’s it, as far as cause of death goes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another shrug from Maccoy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elmazi narrowed her eyes. “There’s something else you’re not telling us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes shifted now – nervous and searching the room for an exit. His gaze skated right over Outhro and Laurel and lingered on Elmazi for a second before settling on Kissai. The next thing he said was addressed to the Commander.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to hear this? It’s not… I mean, it has nothing to do with his death, but it’s probably something you should know.” He looked down at the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” Kissai’s voice was quiet, but it carried in the echoing concrete chamber of the morgue. Elmazi could hear Maccoy shuffle his feet on the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice sounded far away. “He had a lot of sopor in his system. I mean… the chemicals that sopor gives off, obviously. He must’ve been injecting the stuff directly. I don’t really have proper tox kits, but I’d say he had a decent amount in his blood when he was killed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elmazi watched her new Commander carefully, searching for any sign of what she was thinking. The expression on her face was dark, but betrayed almost nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there anything else, Specialist?” Kissai asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Maccoy shook his head. “No, Commander. He was high on sopor and shot a whole bunch. Body was dragged from where he was killed, but… I assume you figured that out already.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elmazi saw Kissai’s face twitch. “Yes, Specialist.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s it.” Maccoy crossed his arms over his chest. “I wish I could tell you more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But?” Kissai leaned in closer. “What is it, Specialist?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maccoy shifted nervously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Specialist?” Kissai’s tone was getting angry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This was a message to someone.” He turned away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You care to elaborate?” Kissai asked – Maccoy was shaking his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elmazi put her hand on Kissai’s shoulder and the woman flinched. Shaking her head, Elmazi squeezed lightly. “Commander – a word…”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Elmazi waited until they were back through the doors to the morgue before she spoke in a loud whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Someone wanted us to find this. Someone wanted <em>you</em> to find this. Obviously.” Elmazi shook her head and glanced over at the morgue doors. “When’s the last time you spoke with Commander Enkeza?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right before he died,” Kissai answered without hesitation. “Well…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elmazi raised an eyebrow and waited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe not <em>right</em> before he died. I was…” She blushed and looked away. “I fell asleep at my desk and I woke up and the Commander had sent me a message telling me to come speak to him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was it?” Elmazi asked. “Just… come speak to him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kissai bristled and set her teeth. “He said he had an <em>urgent matter</em> to discuss. That was the exact phrase he used.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And nothing else?” It wasn’t much help – but it wouldn’t hurt to prod for more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you that was it!” Kissai snapped. She turned to the door and then stopped. “You have thoughts on this, I assume?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do, if you’d care to hear them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kissai turned back around and her eyes were sending rivers of tears down her cheeks. Elmazi took a step back, feeling suddenly much worse for snapping earlier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine.” Her voice was quiet and it was the only word she spoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s something very odd here and I don’t have the pieces to put everything together. The murder was deliberately violent – probably to draw attention – but also it was thought out in advance. Every step of this was planned out in some way and to some ultimate goal… I just don’t know what it is yet. The drugs in his system… the timing of his messages… and I found a bag in the vent access corridor with a pistol stashed in a section of the vents with a conveniently inoperable sensor array.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kissa’s eyes were narrow. “That’s not normal. It’s connected, I assume?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the thing – I’m not actually sure. It feels like a big hell of a coincidence, but it could be. There’s more here I need to go through, and I’m not going to jump to any conclusions before I do some digging.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, Sergeant. That sounds reasonable.” Kissai nodded at her – this part of the conversation was over. “You’re in charge of this investigation – you do what you feel is best.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something about her tone wasn’t right. She sounded shaken and off, as if she failed to recognize just how dire a situation she’d been put into.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Commander, there’s a good chance that this was targeting Commander Enkeza because of his position in the colony. I would advise you to be extremely cautious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kissai snarled and she was suddenly inches from Elmazi’s face… or as near as she could get. Even standing to her full height, the Commander barely came up to the taller troll’s neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh? Is that what you’d <em>advise</em> me, Sergeant? Is that the course of action that my illustrious teal-blood Sergeant would suggest? Oh wait… you’re not that anymore, are you? Because you don’t outrank me, and according to every other metric you’re not worth my fucking time. I’ll do what the fuck I want here and <em>I’ll</em> worry about my own safety!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elmazi felt a flare of anger burn up inside her and fought to keep it down – the Commander was obviously speaking out of anger, but hurt all the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Commander, I would also advise you to go get some rest…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kissai’s face looked suddenly hurt in a way that Elmazi couldn’t quite place. “<em>Stop fucking calling me Commander!</em>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pushed past Elmazi and stormed off toward the elevator, visibly shaking. When she got to the doors, she stopped and turned to face back at the head of security. Kissa’s face was dark, and she was obviously crying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<em>Sergeant,</em> I want whoever did this found immediately. Whenever we get that response from Second Fleet, I want to be able to tell them everything is under control. I want them to know that we’re more than a bunch of incompetent bulge-munchers with our heads up our own waste-chutes. Is that clear, <em>Sergeant?!</em>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elmazi wanted to scream at her. Wanted to tell her she was being a massive pile of hoofbeast shit. Wanted to tell her that she only wanted to make sure that Kissai was safe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, she let out a monotone “yes, Commander” and nothing else. The Commander balled her fist, hit the wall once, and stepped onto the elevator without another word.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Back inside the morgue, Elmazi glared down each of the Specialists in turn, seeing them wither and shrink back. She sighed – these were the only people she knew for certain hadn’t been involved in the murder. Or at least she didn’t think they were <em>directly</em> involved. That creeping fear was already working its way up inside her guts – that maybe they hadn’t pulled the actual trigger, but had helped in some other way. Provided the weapon. Cleared the way. Stepped aside so the killer could find their way in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glared at Outhro, who cringed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that felt too simple. Outhro might’ve left his post, but that didn’t suddenly deactivate a security door. And an hour between the last contact with Commander Enkeza left a big opening – big enough for pretty much anything to happen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elmazi sighed. “Stop looking at me like that, Specialist Remlet. If I seriously thought you were involved, I’d have you locked up already.” She saw Outhro relax a little. “I need you to start looking around… discreetly. See if you can start to build a timeline of who might’ve been in that section of the command facility when the Commander was murdered.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Outhro nodded, but didn’t say anything. That was good enough. Elmazi turned to Laurel next.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Specialist Tallai, I know you were on com relay duty during that shift, correct?” Laurel nodded. “Okay, good. I want you to work through the relay traffic for all the coms and see if you find anything out of the ordinary. Anything that stands out. And also… be careful. Don’t let anyone know exactly what you’re doing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maccoy spoke up – “What about me? I’m done with the examination. Do you need anything else?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elmazi thought for a moment. “Yes, Specialist. I need you to investigate the murder scene.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maccoy’s face fell. “Dammit Sergeant – I’m a doctor, not a Legislacerator!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m aware,” Elmazi said with a slight snarl. “But you’re also familiar with generally what happens when people are shot… unless they stopped teaching trauma medicine in the Medicorpus academy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. Go back there as soon as you can and look for anything that tells you anything. We’re completely in the dark right now, and I’d like to be able to come back with something more satisfying than the fact that he was shot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was about to dismiss them when a thought occurred. “Also… if you happen to hear anything about why the Commander of our facility might’ve been injecting sopor before his untimely death, I would be <em>very</em> interested in knowing more details.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maccoy nodded, saying nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay then, Specialists. You’ll report back to me in two day-cycles… or immediately, if you find something notable.” She wanted to say they were all on the clock, but it wasn’t strictly true. In truth, none of them were going anywhere anytime soon. Effectively, they were all trapped on this barely-habitable rock with the murderer.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Scene of the Crime</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>7th Day of the 7th Bilunar Perigee, morning shift</b>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In spite of his vague attempts at youthful exuberance when he was feeling particular intoxicated, Jameth Maccoy was one of the older people stationed on the colony. At almost 20 sweeps, he hadn’t quite been the late Commander Enkeza’s senior in age but he’d been close. Of course, blood caste and rank would always hold him back to some degree.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maccoy had been a doctor for a long time. Ever since he was a wiggler, the idea of being able to help bring the diseased and injured had always appealed to him. But living on Alternia, it wasn’t really an option. Despite his desire, he would always be shuffled to the back in favor of the jade and teal bloods who would be given the first access to the medical training because of the “natural inclinations.” It turned Maccoy’s stomach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So he’d made the decision to join the Fleet. The Fleet didn’t care as much – the gold bloods were considered “good enough” for basically all of the technical positions. Even though he wouldn’t enjoy the prestige of being a doctor like those trained back on Alternia, he was doing the work itself. That’s what really mattered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Except he wasn’t really doing the work anymore. He’d had a good number of sweeps as a Fleet doctor – serving on numerous ships and planets throughout as he ticked off his one-sweep rotations until he had his full stipend bonus and could go back to Alternia. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure if he <em>would</em> go back to Alternia. The Fleet gave him a sense of meaning and structure.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Until he fell into the unlucky position of being on the worst possible end of duty rotations outside of disciplinary action. By the whims of fate, Maccoy had pulled random assignment to one of the colony worlds in the Far Reaches.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So by the cruel whims of luck, he had pulled a two sweep minimum rotation on Colony World 4729D. Too much of a shitty rock to even warrant a name – at least it had an atmosphere. Kind of. It wasn’t like they had much contact with the rest of the Empire either – that two sweep rotation would probably be more like two and a half with the frequency of cargo flights through the system. The colony did technically drop off some minerals from time to time, but mostly it was just resupply of the things the colony couldn’t produce on their own and a ride for new and outgoing personnel.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jameth Maccoy was one of the very few medical staff in the whole colony, and the only one who had full Medicorpus training beyond the level of a practicing nursing Specialist. It led him to a certain degree of familiarity with the colony as a whole. He wasn’t just one or two people’s doctor – he was basically everyone’s doctor. Anything outside the purview of the nursing Specialists got kicked his way.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span>Elmazi had let him into the office formerly occupied by Commander Enkeza and told him to find out as much as he possibly could about the murder. Beyond the weapon used and the toxicology that revealed the Commander’s sopor habit, Maccoy knew basically nothing about the scene. He looked back and forth across the room, his mind racing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="jameth">What the entire hell am I supposed to be looking for?!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had never been trained to examine a crime scene. Technically even his abilities to examine a body were only those required by the Medicorpus for graduation – and for Fleet doctors, that standard was fairly low priority. He tried to think back on all the vid-dramas he’d watched that featured Legislacerators or Medinvestigators. There was one from when he was a wiggler that had a heroic doctor who faced off against a different criminal every week, playing a high-stakes game that pushed his knowledge of the medical and criminal fields.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sadly, that was probably beyond the scope of what Jameth Maccoy, Medical Specialist (Doctor), was capable of.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The blood had been two day-cycles in drying, so it no longer glistened but instead stained every surface it touched a dim green. The smell was still there – the tang of copper that made all blood smell like rust, no matter what the color.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maccoy made a slow circuit of the room, looking at the pattern of the blood on the floor and the drag marks that led back to the chair behind the heavy desk at the end of the office. Even from a distance, Maccoy could see the holes punched in the back of the chair by the pistol rounds as they’d impacted their target.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Based on the tox report, it was fair to assume that Command Enkeza hadn’t been especially coherent when he was shot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="jameth">Where’d he even get it from?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was a good question – maybe something worth looking into. If he had sopor, that meant someone was supplying it somewhere. Maybe someone else in the colony. Sopor was used in the stasis gel used for certain high-risk maneuvers in Fleet spacecraft, and outside of that it mostly saw trade for its various mind-altering properties. The effect differed slightly from person to person, but generally it had the effect of inducing euphoria and mild hallucinations, while also putting the user into a mild stupor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="jameth">Did he take it himself?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t like Maccoy expected to find an answer to that question in here. There was so much blood and what in the hell was he supposed to take away from any of that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="jameth">He sure was murdered!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Commander was probably high at his desk. Someone got in… somehow… and shot him several times. Then they dragged his body to the middle of the room and got away without anyone noticing someone covered in blood and carrying a gun.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a lot to unpack there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No one had heard the gunshot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="jameth">So they used a suppressor on the gun. Or…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He walked to the wall and rapped it with a knuckle. The sound against the interior wall almost immediately faded to nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="jameth">Sound-proofing?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was an interesting data-point. Maccoy walked back toward the desk. It was, of course, covered in dried blood. No one had even bothered to search the desk itself. Maccoy had a strong stomach – the blood didn’t really bother him anymore. He pushed back the chair and opened the first drawers in the desk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blood had seeped in at some point – the papers in the top of the drawer were crusted with it. Under the first layer of papers was an Alternian service pistol. Maccoy pulled it carefully out of the drawer and ejected the magazine. It looked like it was still full. Checking the chamber, he saw that a round wasn’t even chambered – nor did the gun show any signs of having been used recently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not the murder weapon, but that didn’t mean anything. The Alternian Empire bought thousands upon thousands of those service pistols to issue to their troops. Officers. Vehicle crews. Security personnel. There were undoubtedly dozens of them on this very colony in the hands of various security personnel and command staff. And items like pistols got “lost” all the time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maccoy kept going through the drawers. Most of what was in there was unremarkable garbage – the detritus of the Commander’s vaguely-defined duties and a remarkable amount of pointless doodling. Down near the bottom of the last drawer, Maccoy finally found something interesting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a half-crumpled piece of paper and on it was a hand-written message.</span>
</p>
<p class="paper">
  <span class="papertext">Mearto,</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="papertext">I can’t keep covering your traces like this! Either stop using the Felt network for your bullshit or learn how to do it yourself so this won’t blow back on me!</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="papertext">I know you’ve got a fucking interface, you jade-blood sack of shit!</span>
  <span></span><br/>
<span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="papertext">-GF</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maccoy raised an eyebrow – the colony could be interfaced with via Felt tech the same as almost everything that wasn’t specifically locked down – that much wasn’t a mystery. What <em>was</em> a mystery was why Commander Enkeza would be using it in the first place. Or who “GF” was and why they were so comfortable talking to the Commander like that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The piece of paper stower in a pocket, Maccoy finished his search of the desk and began to search along the sides of the room, looking for anything he might’ve missed. He knocked on the wall panels – he’d seen one of the vid-drama Medinvestigators do that to check for hidden passages once – and heard the same dull <em>thump</em> each time. He tried not to look toward the center of the room at the stain that covered so much of the floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t hearing a different sound like in the vid-drama… it was a small crack that Maccoy noticed in the wall. An almost-seamless continuation of the sound-proofed paneling, but there was definitely a break in it. Maccoy pushed hard on the spot by the crack and heard a soft <em>click</em> from inside. When he let up, the panel swung outward on an internal hinge perfectly set to make the section all-but-invisible.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the other side of the section of wall panel there was a short passageway, maybe four feet long.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At the end of the passageway, there was a heavy metal security door.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Assigned Dereliction</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u"> <b>7th Day of the 7th Bilunar Perigee, day shift</b> </span>
</p>
<p class="amberterminal"><span class="terminaltextamber">EVIDENCE:</span> <br/><br/><span class="terminaltextamber">1. Extreme violence.</span> <br/><span class="terminaltextamber">2. Dragging of body.</span> <br/><span class="terminaltextamber">3. Drugs in system.</span> <br/><span class="terminaltextamber">4. No sign of entry.</span> <br/><br/><span class="terminaltextamber">Sergeant Pyrane is investigating</span></p>
<p>Kissai sat at the terminal, lightly tapping the keys and staring at the glow of the screen in her dim room. Eventually she’d clear out the office that Commander Enkeza had been killed in. Eventually. That was what she told herself.</p>
<p>Over and over again.</p>
<p>She leaned forward and mashed her head into the keyboard.</p>
<p class="amberterminal">
  <span class="terminaltextamber">ghbyju kim8l9o</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="kissai">Congratulations, Commander…</span>
</p>
<p>She squeezed her eyes shut as tight as they’d go – tight enough to try to block out every horrible thing she’d ever done.</p>
<hr/>
<p class="blurry-text2">“What the grub-shitting fuck is going on?!” The voice of the olive blood Sergeant… or had he been an Over-Specialist? A chief? The voice of the olive blood was ringing in the echoing metal corridors where she’d spent so much of the last sweep. Kissai barely heard it. <br/><br/>The recoil had been the same. The noise the same. The smell and the sound and the feel of the jolt in her hands the same. Trained and qualified and everything felt so familiar. <br/><br/>But also so very different. <br/><br/>The next part – the part that came after all the sound and fury and ultimately signified a return to nothing. That part was different. <br/><br/>Two more olive bloods were there, both of them wearing the uniforms of the security personnel. She didn’t know their names – didn’t know any of their names – because the ship was huge and she was always in the same parts of it. From damage control to her quarters to the mess hall to the recreational deck, sometimes. From point to point in a consistent, predictable line. Predictable. <br/><br/>Easy to track. <br/><br/>The gun hung limply in her hands, the barrel still warm. Five rounds had done it. The service pistols held twelve, usually, plus one in the chamber. She had enough left to do this twice more, if she needed to. <br/><br/>On one side, the security specialist grabbed her arm – the arm that was barely holding the gun – and twisted slightly. She let him retrieve the gun without a second thought. It was fine. Everything was fine. <br/><br/>“I don’t know!” It felt like the space between the answer and the question it belonged to was too big. There were already people running around. Everything that was going to happen was already in motion.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The screen blinked at her – the cursor a straight line of a few pixels that wouldn’t leave her alone. She peered up at the screen, barely lifting her head.</p>
<p class="amberterminal"><span class="terminaltextamber">New message from ElmaziPyrane</span> <br/><span class="terminaltextamber">Received 25 minutes ago</span> <br/><br/><span class="terminaltextamber">EP &lt; i’v3 got som3thing i n33d to t3ll you!</span> <br/><span class="terminaltextamber">EP &lt; m33t m3 in th3 3ast acc3ss corridor in on3 hour!</span> <br/><span class="terminaltextamber">EP &lt; don’t t3ll anyon3!</span></p>
<p>Kissai sat up with a jolt, almost sending the chair toppling backwards. She stared at the letters etched into the phosphors of the screen and her heart raced. After what had already happened, “I’ve got something I need to tell you” was one of the last things she wanted to see. Kissai fumbled in the desk drawer, reaching for her service pistol. Without a second thought, she shoved the pistol in her waistband and covered it up with the uniform top.</p>
<p>Somewhere in the far corners of her mind, a memory tumbled around. The last time she’d ever fired a gun.</p>
<p>Shaking it away, Kissai stood up and went to go find Elmazi.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The East Access Corridor was a long, lonely stretch of prefab that connected two sections of the command center over an expanse of rocky terrain. It was small, poorly-lit, and mostly redundant to the other access corridors that traversed the same expanse. This combination made it a perfect place for clandestine meetings – at least in theory. If anyone came by, Kissai imagined that seeing the Colony Commander and head of security would likely deter them.</p>
<p>Elmazi was standing there with her back up against the wall, joined by Medical Specialist Jameth Maccoy. Kissai wasn’t sure why Maccoy was there, but if Elmazi had a reason to bring him on board, it was likely a good one. Kissai looked around nervously, hoping that the nervous energy wasn’t conveyed too strongly. If anything, they needed strong leadership now more than ever.</p>
<p>“Relax, Commander – it’s just us three,” Elmazi said quietly.</p>
<p>“I told you to call me Kissai, dammit.” Kissai walked up to the others and leaned in. “What’s this about?”</p>
<p>This time it was Elmazi who quickly glanced up and down the corridor. “Specialist Maccoy found something in the Commander’s office.”</p>
<p>Maccoy nodded. “That’s right. There was a secret panel in the wall, and it led to a security door.”</p>
<p>“What was behind the door?” Kissai asked, feeling herself getting annoyed at these two. “This really isn’t the time for building suspense.”</p>
<p>“We don’t know,” Elmazi said with a shake of her head. “I already tried my override access on the keycard lock. In theory, that should get us into anything, but it’s locked out. We already checked for Commander Enkeza’s access card but it seems to be missing.”</p>
<p>
  <span class="kissai">So there was another way in…</span>
</p>
<p>“Can you force the door?” Kissai leaned in closer. “This seems more than a little bit important.”</p>
<p>“Not without explosives,” Elmazi responded. “Or maybe mining tools. Things that make a lot of noise and draw a lot of attention.”</p>
<p>Kissai frowned and pursed her lips – that was something she hadn’t considered. The idea of drawing even more attention to the bizarre circumstances around the former Commander’s murder didn’t exactly appeal to her.</p>
<p>
  <span class="kissai">We have to be careful.</span>
</p>
<p>“Where do you suspect it leads?” Kissai asked. She saw Maccoy perk up at that.</p>
<p>“Commander, I’ve spent some time studying the colony plans.”</p>
<p>“Why?” Kissai asked, but Maccoy shrugged.</p>
<p>“Oh, it gets pretty dull sitting around the medical bay sometimes. I find the architecture fascinating.”</p>
<p>Kissai wasn’t sure she was going to ever agree with him on that – the utilitarian prefab-based designs were singularly disgusting to her.</p>
<p>Maccoy continued – “I’m pretty familiar with where everything leads and I know how to read the plans. That door – it doesn’t exist. I mean, not according to the plans. There’s supposed to just be a void space in there between the inner and outer shell walls of the building.”</p>
<p>This wasn’t helping to make her feel less uneasy about the whole situation. “So what you’re saying is we have a door we can’t open that goes to a place that doesn’t exist. Behind a secret panel. Hidden in the office used by a man who was murdered in a particularly violent way.”</p>
<p>“Yes, Com– Kissai. That’s exactly what we’re saying,” Elmazi kept her voice down.</p>
<p>Kissai groaned and ran a palm down her face. “Please tell me you have more than this?”</p>
<p>“No,” Elmazi replied bluntly. “Not yet. Specialist Tallai is working on scrubbing through the com logs and other digital records. If anything jumps out, she’ll let us know.”</p>
<p>
  <span class="kissai">Better than nothing, I guess.</span>
</p>
<p>“Fine. Sergeant, this is…” Kissai sighed heavily. She wanted to be mad about this – that would at least give her something to focus on other than the growing sense of terror that was slowly filling her up. Anything to keep the idea that there was something so much bigger going on here. “It’s fine, Sergeant. Thank you. We’ll follow up with Tallai soon. And Maccoy?”</p>
<p>Maccoy nodded. “Yes’m?”</p>
<p>“Keep investigating. You talk to a lot of people in the course of your job, so try to use that to your advantage. See if anyone’s heard anything or said anything that might be useful to know. I don’t expect you’ll just stumble on anything, but it’s better than doing nothing.”</p>
<p>Maccoy nodded again – his face had a look of grim determination on it.</p>
<p>“Good,” Kissai said. “Now get the fuck out of here. And leave separately – the list of people I trust in this colony right now is a very short one.”</p>
<hr/>
<p class="blurry-text2">She didn’t want to answer the Legislacerator’s questions. Not because she had anything in particular to hide or keep from her, but because she felt like she was going to vomit at any moment. <br/><br/>“Excellent, Lieutenant Zalska. Thank you for your continued service to the Empire,” The Legislacerator said with that same calm voice. “My name is Captain Terezi Pyrope and I am here to represent the Legiscorpus in this investigation.” <br/><br/>Kissai could feel her blood running cold, but Terezi smiled at her and squinted her eyes – she had a set of infrared lenses. Lenses that could look right inside her and see if she was lying based on her body heat. <br/><br/>“Relax,” Terezi said. “We know you were acting in self defense. The video footage has already been pulled and we can clearly see what happened. The part we’re missing is <em>why</em> it happened in the first place.” <br/><br/>Reaching into her pocket, Terezi pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. Kissai wasn’t sure how well she could write using the infrared optics, but she seemed to be managing well enough. <br/><br/>“Let’s start with your relationship with the deceased. Lieutenant…” she flipped back through the notepad and ran her fingers delicately over the writing. “Lieutenant Predit. Aramea Predit. You and she were quite close, correct?” <br/><br/>All at once, something felt very wrong about all of this. Because it had only been a short while since Aramea had died. <br/><br/>Since she’d killed Aramea. <br/><br/>But this Legislacerator was already here on the ship and she already knew who Aramea was. Already knew who Kissai was. There was something else going on here. There was something that Terezi wasn’t telling her. <br/><br/>“We were…” Kissai trailed off. <br/><br/>“Lovers.” Terezi completed her sentence for her. “Flushed red, I would think. Based on the intelligence I’ve got, anyway.” <br/><br/>Kissai felt her stomach lurch. Her mouth tasted like copper when she went to answer. “Yes.” <br/><br/>“Did she ever mention anything that felt off to you? Ever bring up any particular organizations? Specifically, the Heretical Confluence – did she ever mention them?” <br/><br/>“What?” Kissai was struggling to keep her head straight through this – but the Heretical Confluence was a bogeyman that hadn’t existed since before she was hatched. “I don’t understand…” <br/><br/>“It’s nothing,” Terezi clicked her tongue and made a mark in her notepad. “Can you tell me exactly what interactions you had with Lieutenant Predit from the beginning of the current duty cycle?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. A Meeting of Circumstance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>8th Day of the 7th Bilunar Perigee, night shift</b>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For three day-cycles, ██████ had been waking up utterly convinced that Sergeant Pyrane had broken down their door and was about to shoot them for what they did. Sleep didn’t come easily in the first place – it wasn’t so much that ██████ had trouble falling asleep… it wasn’t even dreams of the murder that kept them from their rest. Instead, it was the dreams of the shadowed place – the faintly insistent call of something beyond their understanding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mearto Enkeza had had the same dreams.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first night, ██████ thought they were losing their mind – that something in their knowledge of Mearto’s secrets had been tripped when they pulled the trigger and now they were doomed to forever bear the guilt of their actions. However righteous it had been, it still took a piece of them away to kill the man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it mimicked what Mearto had written about in his secret diary – the diary that ██████ had hidden away in the wall compartment in their room. The diary that they had read through in spite of it being immaterial to the questions that ██████ and their comrades needed to address now that Mearto had been eliminated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Those dreams meant something… and so ██████ sat awake and stared across at their darkened walls, trying to divine some meaning in the vague swirl of shadows that seemed to move of their own accord.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Groaning, ██████ sat up and stumbled to their desk terminal. As the screen powered on, it flooded the room with a faint orange glow that chased some of the shadows away… but made new ones. A strangely appropriate statement, given the circumstances.</span>
</p><p class="amberterminal">
  <span class="terminaltextamber">██ &gt; | s|ncerely hope that you’ve g|ven some thought to my pred|cament.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">GF &lt; Y0u really think I give tw0 shits ab0ut Y0UR pr0blems right n0w?</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">GF &lt; D0 y0u kn0w wh0 g0t assigned t0 l00k int0 the c0m l0gs?!</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">GF &lt; 0NE FUCKING GUESS!</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">██ &gt; Do | honestly need to rem|nd you who enabled me on th|s?</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">██ &gt; Or how your knowledge of th|s cr|me |s |n and of |tself grounds for summary execution?</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">GF &lt; Bullshit! They w0n’t kill me if I sell y0u 0ut!</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">GF &lt; And what pr00f d0 they have? Y0ur w0rd?</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">██ &gt; And extens|ve commun|cat|ons logs.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">GF &lt; Have y0u checked th0se “extens|ve commun|cat|ons logs” recently?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>██████ frowned to themselves and tapped a series of commands on the terminal, entering several code-phrases known only to themselves. When the screen finally refreshed, they felt the first traces of a migraine pinching into their forehead.</span>
</p><p class="amberterminal">
  <span class="terminaltextamber">██ &gt; How the hell d|d you do that?!</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">GF &lt; 0h b00 fucking h00!</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">GF &lt; I’m the g0ddamn netw0rk administrat0r y0u grub-brained los0r!</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">GF &lt; Y0u wanted t0 d0 this, we’re in this t0geth0r!</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">██ &gt; F|ne!</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">██ &gt; Who |s look|ng through the com logs?</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">GF &lt; Laurel fucking Tallai.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">██ &gt; |s that supposed to mean someth|ng to me?</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">GF &lt; The c0m tech wh0 d0es fucking stats analysis f0r fun!</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">██ &gt; So what? D|dn’t you scrub the logs?</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">GF &lt; 0f c0urse you stupid fuck0r!</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">██ &gt; Then |’m not worr|ed. You’re annoy|ng but you’re no |d|ot.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">GF &lt; N0t if she l00ks in the wr0ng place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The headache was getting worse, pummeling its way back into ██████’s brain now, working its way down their neck and into their shoulders. There was already so much to worry about – so many small details that needed to be handled in the precise right way for any of their plans to succeed. It wasn’t just ██████ on the line here – it was all of them. At least two dozen trolls throughout the colony, and all of them had made the collective decision that this would be ██████’s responsibility.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They didn’t <em>mind</em> that decision, in theory. But the weight of it was so much. They weren’t raised to be a killer – had joined the Alternian Fleet in a production analysis track. They always knew that they were destined to be a tiny cog in the machine of the colony worlds. At the time, they hadn’t given it much thought – it seemed like a stable way to continue existing inside the vastness of the Alternian Empire. A way to guarantee citizenship on Alternia one day, if they kept their head down and played the game the right way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then they’d seen something in Commander Mearto Enkeza’s reports that didn’t look quite right. ██████ had been convinced it was just a minor typographical error. They hadn’t even brought it to Mearto’s attention – he was notorious for his foul temper and it would be a simple enough matter to correct the mistake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was five perigees ago, and what ██████ had learned in the meantime had shaken them to their very core. It didn’t just say things about Mearto Enkeza – it said things about the very foundations of the Alternian Empire. Things that ██████ had never known… and things they had known but chosen to ignore because it was easier that way. It was always easier to keep your head down when you weren’t the one being affected and you couldn’t see the depths of the problems. In spite of being out here on the edges of the Reaches – or maybe because of it.</span>
</p><p class="amberterminal">
  <span class="terminaltextamber">██ &gt; And what prec|sely does that mean?</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">GF &lt; The l0gs are g0ne but there are traces she can find.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">GF &lt; If she kn0ws where t0 l00k.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">██ &gt; Can you make sure she doesn’t look |n those places?</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">GF &lt; I d0n’t kn0w! The C0mmand0r was very secretive!</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">██ &gt; | was under the |mpress|on that your role was to break through secrecy…</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">██ &gt; As well as to enable |t for our own ends.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">GF &lt; Fuck 0ff!</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">GF &lt; I believe in this rev0luti0n as much as y0u d0!</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">GF &lt; They’ll kill me the same as y0u f0r this!</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">██ &gt; My hope |s that won’t necessar|ly be the case.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">██ &gt; |f we can get through to her properly.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">GF &lt; That part isn’t my pr0blem!</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">██ &gt; | d|sagree. Th|s |s all a problem for all of us.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">GF &lt; GAH! I fucking KN0W THAT, 0KAY?!</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">GF &lt; It’s n0t like I fucking c0ntr0l what the C0mmand0r d0es</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">GF &lt; 0r what Laurel Tallai l00X at!</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">██ &gt; |’m sorry. | shouldn’t snap at you. |’m just under a lot of pressure.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">██ &gt; | never wanted to be |mportant |n this!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>██████ leaned forward, their eyes burning as they started to sob. They had believed – still believed – in the cause because it was just. Because it was right. Because the things that Mearto had been doing weren’t just the products of the Alternian Empire – they were baked right into the very fabric of its being. Even if he’d been doing his damndest to create his own Empire in miniature on Colony World 4729D, he had ultimately been a loyal servant to the Empress until the very end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mearto had possessed many flaws – his over-reliance on the natural sedative that sopor produced, the odd combination of brutality and laziness that characterized his management, his disgusting way toward subordinates he deemed suitably attractive…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of those were things that made him unpleasant to deal with and generally a wretched individual. But none of them made him truly evil. None of them had sealed his fate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a secret chamber below the colony that saw to that. ██████ had been in there, more than once. And even though they technically knew that they couldn’t hear those far-off voices from inside the Deep Felt, they always had the overpowering sense that maybe they could. They’d never been fitted with an interface – the work they did didn’t require it, and they didn’t rate highly enough for it to be a general requirement. Actually tripping into that realm of haunted shadows was impossible… but they still felt like they could sense it in the back of their head. The veil was so thin that it could tear any moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And maybe they saw those lines from time to time – faint traces that ran in and out of the code they stared at every single day. Or maybe it was all in their imagination. Because the Empire was built on that foundation – had relied on it for the core of the Empress’ expansion beyond the Far Reaches. How long had it been like this? Since they very first went to the Deep Felt? Or had something reached out from within and made contact?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>██████ didn’t know. None of their comrades knew either. Technically they had no specific proof that the things Mearto had believed were true, but they knew that he believed them. He believed that the Empress believed them too. And there were others – and in their shared belief, they became dangerous even if it was all in their heads. That was what Mearto’s inner sanctum ultimately represented – the shared belief and the damage it could do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>██████ had sat there for a full day-cycle, waiting for Mearto to be in the right position. He’d taken to injecting the sopor directly – that helped. ██████’s comrades had made sure that the end results were a little more extreme – that the potency of the specific blend was just right. But the timing had to be perfect, so ██████ had sat there and they could swear those far-off things were whispering to them even though they couldn’t technically experience their influence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the end, it had almost been a relief when ██████ got the signal and it was time for them to do the bloody deed. They would never admit it – how relieved they’d been, or for what reason.</span>
</p><p class="amberterminal">
  <span class="terminaltextamber">GF &lt; Wanted it 0r n0t, we’re in this t0geth0r!</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">GF &lt; N0 0ne baX 0ut n0w!</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">██ &gt; Yeah, | know that fully well.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">██ &gt; Look, | have to go. Sh|ft starts |n a half hour.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">██ &gt; | hope | don’t need to tell you to scrub these logs.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">GF &lt; Yeah.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">GF &lt; And ab0ut Tallai…</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">GF &lt; I’ll d0 what I can to steer her 0ff c0urse.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">██ &gt; Thank you. | actually really apprec|ate that.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">██ &gt; |’m sorry… | d|dn’t want to do th|s… not l|ke this… not me…</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">GF &lt; We all drew l0ts.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">██ &gt; No… some of us d|d. The ones who’re expendable.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">██ &gt; |’m not mad about that. But don’t pretend |t’s not true.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">GF &lt; Fine. We w0n’t bullshit each 0th0r.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">GF &lt; Keep y0ur head d0wn. Tallai kn0ws what she’s d0ing.</span>
  <span></span><br/>
<span class="terminaltextamber">GF &lt; D0n’t underestimate her!</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltextamber">gotheeFirite disconnected</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lines scrolled back on themselves as the routine that ██████ had set on their terminal wiped the local memory. Gothee’s follower code would kick in and trace back to the network, worming through the various digital warrens and rooting out any references to the conversation save the barest time-traces required by the server hardware. ██████ wasn’t an expert, but he knew what Gothee was referring to – they’d had this conversation before and ██████ felt like an idiot for not picking up on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The records were gone, but the records of the records still existed in some form. A keen enough observer could tell that something had been there. Might even be able to figure out who’d been talking to each other. That could be enough… Elmazi Pyrane wasn’t a technician, but she was as keen as a barkbeast on the trail of their quarry. If she had information to go on, she wouldn’t stop running it down until they were all caught.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>██████’s head felt like it was going to explode.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They would need to approach the new Commander eventually… sooner now than before. They were running out of time.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. The Little Trace</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>9th Day of the 7th Bilunar Perigee</b>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even without access to the Deep Felt, there was a standard issue wetware headset in the communications center, and Laurel had been buried in it for the past six hours looking for anything that stood out. It was, as the old saying went, like looking for a sharpened metal thread lead in a pile of dried hoofbeast straw. Her head would hurt when she was done, but for now the feeling was a little bit intoxicating – the way that information flowed in and out of her consciousness without having to really think about it. Turn your awareness and the rest followed. It made using the terminal feel like slogging through thick mud by comparison.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Using the wetware in the first place had required special clearance from the Commander – of course she’d issued it, but the exact reason was some bullshit that they’d made up. Commander Zalska could be distant, but she wasn’t an idiot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The problem wasn’t the Commander – the problem was whoever had killed the old Commander. They’d been very thorough, to the point where Laurel was combing through the trace logs to try to see evidence of who might’ve been talking to who and then tried to cover it up. It was exhausting – in all the hours she’d been diving through, she hadn’t found anything specifically noteworthy. A lot of data traffic that got mixed in with everything else because the colony worked on an outdated system that did a singularly horrible job of keeping data integrity.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was another option that she hadn’t tried yet – to allow the Felt to feed raw data through her interface. It was something she’d technically done in training – all the Felt techs were required to know how to interpret and process the data output. Problem was that it put a heavy strain on the hardware at the user end.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A nice way of saying it hurt your fucking brain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d been putting it off, but there weren’t other ways. Laurel’s head throbbed where the interface was plugged in – that was only going to get worse.</span>
</p>
<p class="terminal">
  <span class="terminaltext">| ENABLE RAW OUTPUT</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltext">This disables top level safety protocols</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltext">Do you want to continue?</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltext">| YES</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltext">Raw output enabled</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Laurel braced herself – the next part would be… unpleasant.</span>
</p>
<p class="terminal">
  <span class="terminaltext">0x53 0x33 0x3a 0x3e 0x28 0x24 0x72 0x59</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltext">0x0a 0x67 0x33 0x35 0x50 0x3a 0x28 0x47</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltext">0x65 0x0a 0x57 0x23 0x2e 0x5b 0x66 0x3a</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltext">0x73 0x64 0x0a 0x72 0x34 0x76 0x7c 0x75</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltext">0x41 0x20 0x51 0x0a 0x70 0x4e 0x43 0x48</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltext">0x30 0x47 0x34 0x35 0x0a 0x62 0x34 0x2e</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltext">0x5f 0x27 0x55 0x4e 0x3f 0x0a 0x56 0x46</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="terminaltext">0x38 0x42 0x43 0x4a 0x4c 0x35 0x0a 0x7e</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t something that had been easy to describe to anyone when she’d done this in training, and doing it again didn’t make it better. All at once, there was a rush of information into her mind and she just… knew things. She could see and make connections that she couldn’t before, the information dancing into her mind and co-opting the processes or her consciousness for long enough to realize what was happening, only for the next wave of pure information to rush in like the Alternian tide.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Somewhere in the flood, the information she needed was there. Her unconscious mind reached out for it – leaning into her training. The Fleet techs knew how to ride that wave and pick out the pieces they needed by instinct – an advantage that Laurel didn’t have. But what she was looking for was out there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A piece that didn’t connect to anything – a dead spot in the midst of the glowing torrent that would stand out in its absence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Someone was tapping on her shoulder. The sensation took a minute to filter through, but Laurel recognized it all at once and jumped in her seat, pulling the headset off as the world came back into focus.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gothee Firite was standing there next to her – rail-thin and over six feet tall with a face that looked like it was always frowning. Short, unremarkable horns that barely prodded up above his tangled mass of hair. He was wearing the standard rust-blood tech uniform, neatly arranged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’re you doing with the wetware?” His voice was low. “You’re only supposed to do that with permission from the Commander.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was still shaken from the quick drop out of the Felt – her stomach churned and her head hurt. “It’s already been cleared with security, talk to Sergeant Pyrane.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gothee shook his head. “You know that’s not enough. She’s not the one with the authority t–”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before he could finish the sentence, Laurel cut him off – “Go take a flying leap off it, Firite. You’re not even authorized to use the wetware at all. You don’t even <em>have</em> an interface. You think I’m gonna forget the fact that you’re a network tech and not a Felt tech? Really?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gothee visibly blanched and took a step back, looking apprehensive. “Oh… I just…” He looked around, as if someone were about to jump out at him. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you, okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It sounded like a lie, and Laurel frowned at him. “You care about something happening to me? Like what? <em>Who’s going to do something to me?</em>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Never mind, forget it.” Gothee turned and walked out of the com center without another word.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he was gone, Laurel took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down – she was shaking now. It wasn’t just the experience of coming out of the Felt, although that was definitely a part of it. No, it was what she’d finally seen in there – looking through the trace stamps and finally seeing something that didn’t belong where it was. A conversation that had happened right around the time of the murder. Then another. Then another just last day-cycle. The same two people talking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One was only identified by the com shorthand of “TL” and that didn’t mean anything to Laurel. Whoever that was, their identity was safe for now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The other was tagged “GF” and maybe that would just be a coincidence, but Laurel knew his typing style well enough to know that was true – the person on that end of the conversation had been Gothee Firite.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span>“Our primary network hardware tech killed our Commander?” Elmazi’s voice had an incredulous edge to it that didn’t sound intentional, but it was there. Laurel had been instructed to report back at a specific time during the evening shift – they were once again talking in one of the unused corridors that lined the colony. It was just the two of them – Elmazi said that Commander Zalska had other business to attend to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, Sergeant, I don’t think so,” Laurel responded, frowning. “But I’m pretty sure he was in contact with the murderer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Sergeant looked down and furrowed her brow – it was a few moments before she spoke.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That makes sense, actually. If someone wiped the com logs, it’d have to be someone with the knowledge and access to do that. Our head network technician has that access. Hell of a bulge on him to do it, but it still makes sense. Does he know that you know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Laurel shook her head. “No – he doesn’t have Felt access in the first place and the raw data trace doesn’t leave logs since it’s only a read from the system feeds. But…” she trailed off and shifted in place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think that he suspects something is up. He asked me what I was doing and he didn’t believe me when I told him it was on your orders. I mean… I was able to talk him down because he’s a dyed-in coward, but y’all need to step this up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was another pause as Elmazi’s brow furrowed again and she tapped a finger absently against her cheek.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do the network techs have access to the HVAC tunnels?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Laurel squinted, unsure of why the question was even being asked. “No, not typically. Network routing is done using mostly wireless and overhead ducts. HVAC tunnels are off limits.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another look crossed Elmazi’s face, and this one was transparent – something in that response had her worried. There was more going on here. It didn’t surprise Laurel very much – in the Empire there was <em>always</em> more going on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s no way for you to retrieve those coms, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Laurel replied without hesitating. “The system physically purges the data and it wouldn’t have been backed up yet. Which of course Gothee would know because he’s responsible for maintaining the physical backups.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine. You can go now, Specialist.” Elmazi turned to walk away, but Laurel spoke up first.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait! You’re just going to… do what? Just sit on this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Elmazi turned back around, she was glaring. When she spoke, her voice was a low snarl. “That’s none of your concern, Specialist. What <em>is</em> your concern is making sure that you find anything else you can and don’t let anyone know what you’re doing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, Sergeant.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As Elmazi walked down the corridor, away from Laurel, she quickened her pace. Laurel stood there, fixed in place, and wondered what was going to happen next… and why the imposing Sergeant seemed so worried.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. A First Time for Nothing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="blurry-text2">Kissai shook her head – it wouldn’t do anything to free her of the pressure that was bearing down on her, but it made her feel better… at least for a moment or two. Terezi was seated across from her, patiently scribbling on the pad. She still didn’t understand how the Legislacerator was able to write so neatly with the infrared optics that took the place of her eyes. It didn’t matter.
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Kissai shifted in her chair and leaned forward. None of this was real – none of this was actually happening. Any second now, she would wake up. She would wake up and Aramea would be lying across from her with that look of concern that she had – the little way that her lips curved in and down that said that she was worried about Kissai. So Kissai would reassure her that everything was fine and then…</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“She told me that she was sorry… the beginning of the shift cycle.” Kissai’s shoulders slumped. “I asked her what she meant and she told me not to worry about it.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Terezi nodded. “Nothing else? She didn’t mention having contact with anyone? Any particular changes in schedule for today?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“No!” Kissai struggled not to scream – this wasn’t something she could <em>do</em> right now! “Everything was the same as always! I had first shift on damage control and then she had comms. I tried to see her on meal breaks sometimes but I had to do prep for the upcoming training exercises so I had to skip the break this cycle.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Yes, your command confirmed that with us, as did the specialists in your department.” Terezi made another set of quick notes on the pad. “And when was the next time you saw Lieutenant Predit?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Shift had ended and Aramea had seemed… nervous? She wasn’t herself. Kissai had asked if she wanted to go eat and she said…</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“It was after shift. She said she wasn’t feeling well and she wanted to go lie down.” Kissai looked at her hands clutching the knees of her uniform pants.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="kissai_blurry2">I was joking with her… asked if she wanted to lie down together for a bit… but…</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Kissai felt the tears coming back – her brow furrowed and she couldn’t stop any of it. “I said I could lie down with her and she told me that she had to do something important later and not to worry about it.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="kissai_blurry2">She said to go get something to eat and then just go get some rest. She knew I was tired after the long shift…</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Terezi nodded, and there was almost an air of sympathy in it. Almost. “What made you decide to check up on her?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“I didn’t, that’s the thing.” Kissai wiped her cheek quickly. “I went to speak to her Commander.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Ah yes,” Terezi nodded and checked back in her notes. “The victim.”</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>10th Day of the 7th Bilunar Perigee, morning shift</b>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kissai still hadn’t gotten to the point where she was comfortable with the idea of going back to the former Commander’s office. She’d finally had to order it to be cleaned up – to do otherwise would start to become unreasonably suspicious – but she didn’t want to be there. In addition to the feeling that she got in the back of her neck whenever she was in there, there was the small matter of the locked security door that led to a place in the facility that didn’t exist.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was enough by itself to make her uncomfortable with the whole idea. But Kissai knew she couldn’t keep using her quarters, so she’d taken one of the spare offices that had been originally intended for the weapons chief. The colonies always had the position for one – someone that reported to the chief of security and was responsible for maintaining and accounting for all the firearms on the colony. But 4729D had never actually had a weapons chief, so the room just became a kind of makeshift storage room used to hold old reports.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kissai had it cleared out and set up in the dusty old room, which had a single small door and not a single hidden passage. It wasn’t necessarily a permanent solution, but it would do for the time being.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was just starting the morning shift when Elmazi walked in and shut the door behind her. Kissai raised an eyebrow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is it, Sergeant?” Kissai looked up from the report she was staring at – the paperwork for the colony itself was piling up on top of everything she had to do to investigate the Commander’s murder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Sergeant stood awkwardly, looking around the room. “Command–” she stopped with a glare from Kissai. “Kissai… I have some information.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kissai stopped what she was doing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Information about the murder, specifically,” Elmazi continued. “Specialist Tallai has discovered critical information about the identity of the murderer and one of their accomplices.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kissai’s neck got that strange prickling sensation again – she didn’t say anything, but she stared intently at Elmazi, who nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She believes that Specialist Gothee Firite was responsible for wiping the communications logs from the time of the murder. Additionally, he was having a conversation with someone who uses the abbreviation <em>TL</em> – although we have no idea who it is.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="kissai">Probably two dozen personnel with that handle…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you put Specialist Firite in custody yet, Sergeant?” Kissai could hear the nervous energy in her own voice – she struggled to tamp it down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I wanted to run this by you first.” She glanced back toward the door, as if she expected someone to burst in at any moment. “I wanted to make sure you understood the risks involved – our murderer obviously wasn’t acting alone, and the signs point to the idea that there may be several more people involved. We have no idea who any of them are and at this point…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She trailed off, but Kissai could figure out the rest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If I arrest Firite, then I may just be tipping our hand early.” Kissai leaned forward on her desk and sighed. “I know that, Sergeant. I wish I could…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without warning, Kissai felt herself start to give and she was shaking. She began to sob, leaning heavily on the desk and crying into her arms. She closed her eyes – buried her head in the crook of her arm and kept sobbing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a hand on her shoulder – gripping firmly but without hurting her. She heard Elmazi’s voice. “Kissai… I’m sorry. I know how hard this is.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kissai snorted. “You do? How? How do you know? What have you ever…” She couldn’t finish – she started sniffling and crying again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve never been in this situation, but I’ve been in a position where I had to make a hard decision and… no matter what, it was the wrong decision to some degree.” Her voice was low and calm, a little bit raspy, and… soothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kissai leaned into the feeling of the hand on her shoulder. She reached up and placed her hand over Elmazi’s, grasping one finger and squeezing back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What did you do… Elmazi, what did you decide?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In my case the decision was made for me,” Elmazi responded softly. “There was only one thing I could do and still live with myself. Sometimes… sometimes things are like that.”</span>
</p><hr/>
<p class="blurry-text2">It was so strange to think about the section commander as a victim – only a few hours ago, Kissai had reported in to her. And then…
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“You went to see the Commander.” It wasn’t a question. “But you ran into Lieutenant Predit along the way, correct?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>She’d seen Aramea walking down the corridor too and caught up to her.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="kissai_blurry2">She didn’t want to talk to me though.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Yes, I was on my way to speak to the Commander when I ran into Aramea.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Terezi smiled at her. “Thank you, Lieutenant. I know this isn’t easy for you. But I need to clear a few things up… you were armed at the time, correct?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Kissai felt her blood grow cold. “Yes, I had my service pistol.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Can you explain to me why you had your sidearm? I know you are entitled to carry it as an officer in the Fleet, but it is highly unusual to do so outside of a combat zone, yes?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Kissai sat back – of course, Terezi knew it wasn’t common practice. She was, after all, technically an officer of the Alternian Military Forces too.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“I had a bad feeling. I can’t explain why, but something was off. So I figured it’d be a safe thing to do.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Terezi nodded – made another note. “Thank you. And you noticed that Lieutenant Predit also had her sidearm?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Kissai nodded and leaned forward again. “Yeah… Aramea had her pistol. I didn’t ask why though. I just asked her what was wrong today and… she didn’t really answer me. Told me it was nothing, and asked me what I was doing.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="kissai_blurry2">She told me to go back to my quarters and I was starting to argue with her. Asked her what the fuck was wrong with her.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“My sources tell me you were arguing with her quite loudly,” Terezi said. “What was that about?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“I don’t know, okay?!” Kissai shouted back. “I asked her what the fuck her problem was and she told me that I needed to get the hell back to my bunk and go to sleep. She didn’t talk to me after that.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Another nod – another note in the pad. “Thank you, Lieutenant. I’m sure this is… difficult.” Terezi smiled, and Kissai knew it was supposed to seem warm… but there was something else underneath that smile. There was a predatory look to it – the look of someone who wanted to find out what had happened so they could hunt down everyone who was involved. It was the sense of someone who wanted justice… but <em>justice</em> in the sense of a firing squad.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“If you can, please let me know what happened next,” Terezi said. “The part where you and Aramea confronted the Commander.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“<em>We</em> didn’t confront anyone. She walked up to the Commander and she started shouting at her.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="kissai_blurry2">She said that she wasn’t going to be able to keep things a secret much longer. That everyone would find out… and she said something about a colony world I’d never heard of…</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Of course, Lieutenant. I apologize… witnesses have confirmed what happened. Lieutenant Predit verbally confronted the section commander… after a brief altercation, the Lieutenant drew her service weapon and fired three rounds, striking the Commander in her chest. After that, what did you do?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span class="kissai_blurry2">The way that she looked… it was like I didn’t ever know her at all…</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“I drew my own weapon and fired on Lieutenant Predit.” Kissai heard her own voice come back as monotone, almost robotic.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Yes,” Terezi responded. “You did.”</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span>Half an hour passed, maybe. Maybe more than that? Kissai managed to stop crying and Elmazi left to go attend to her duties and Kissai was alone again. Oddly enough, she didn’t want Elmazi to go that time. She wanted the woman to stay with her… to keep comforting her. Because no one had done that for a long time. For almost two sweeps, she’d been essentially alone. Finished the duty rotation on the Imperial Carrier Ablution and then she had been up for re-assignment…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="kissai">I chose to go here. To nowhere.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A sweep and a half on Colony World 4729D. Out on the edges of the Reaches, beyond any thoughts about the politics on the Inner Colonies or Alternia. Beyond what had happened on board the Ablution.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="kissai">But it followed me here!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something was happening on this world that she didn’t fully understand, and the last thing Kissai wanted was to be caught up in it. She fully intended to finish this duty cycle, take her stipend, and move back to Alternia. Or not… to settle somewhere in the Inner Colonies where she could keep her head down and ignore what was happening around her. A former Alternian Fleet officer would be well respected on some of those worlds – would be treated with the kind of deference that ensured privacy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kissai leaned forward onto the desk and stopped what she was doing. She hated everything about this colony and the people on it. Hated every waking moment that she had to continue to deal with everything. Hated having to once again be on the end of the murder and bloodshed that the Fleet seemed all too comfortable to enable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a sharp knock on the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Elmazi, it’s fine… it’s open…” she wasn’t sure if she wanted to see Elmazi again right now, but the reasoning was complicated. She wasn’t sure if she felt comfortable having been so… vulnerable. There were a lot of reasons to feel the way she did, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready to get into them just yet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door slid open, and someone she didn’t recognize was standing there. A short, slight troll with horns that curved inward along their face. They had the uniform of one of the olive blood specialists on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without thinking, Kissai’s right hand drifted toward her service pistol.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes? Who are you and what do you want? I’m busy.” Kissai glared at the newcomer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The troll stepped in and shut the door behind them. “Ma’am? May I have a minute, please?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kissai’s hand touched the back of the pistol grip and her arm cocked back. This troll wasn’t armed, but Kissai didn’t trust them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who are you and what do you want?” Kissai repeated the question.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My name is Specialist Lamatt, Commander. I work in production reporting and I have some important evidence for you. About…” Specialist Lamatt looked around nervously. “About the murder.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kissai relaxed her grip a little, but her hand didn’t move. “Specialist, if you have evidence then you are obligated under the Alternian Fleet code of justice to provide it to myself or a security commander immediately. As we do not have Legislacerators on hand, myself or Sergeant Pyrane will take your statement.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The olive blood shook their head. “No, you don’t understand, ma’am…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They took a step forward. “Ma’am… my name is Specialist Trelan Lamatt, and <em>I’m</em> the murderer.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Back to Basics</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The Commander was quicker than Trelan expected, and suddenly they were staring down the barrel of an Alternian Fleet service pistol. They’d gone into this unsure of what to expect – unsure of whether or not the Commander would simply gun them down in anger. Or as justice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="trelan">I guess I deserve it either way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But that initial moment had passed and they were still alive… a lease on life that was at best tenuous. And they were still facing the pistol. Commander Zalska was shaking, her hand trembling and the gun wavering back and forth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What… the fuck?” The Commander’s voice matched the tremble in her hand as she fought to find words. “Specialist…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Trelan put their hands up slowly, careful not to move too quickly. “Commander, I need to talk to you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She found her voice. “Specialist, you are being placed into the custody of the Alternian Fleet. Security will be here to escort you to a holding cell. If you move, I will fucking shoot you!” The last part didn’t sound especially convinced, but the Commander was moving to pick up the radio handset that was across from her desk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait!” Trelan saw the Commander’s hand stop. “I need to tell you something!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zalska glared at them. “Why would I let you? You murdered him. I fucking <em>saw</em> what you did!” Once again, Trelan was worried that she would just shoot them… but they’d done their research. Their comrades had learned about her past and… it wasn’t likely, but dismissing it as impossible seemed reckless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was time to start talking. “You found the security door in the Commander’s office, right? I know what’s behind it! I know what he was hiding! I can tell you <em>why</em> we killed him!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Commander Zalska was on the verge of panic, but she was also observant to a fault – Trelan could see the recognition in her eyes when they said it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We?” She lowered the gun a bit, but it was still pointing up at Trelan’s gut – a shot wouldn’t be immediately fatal, but it would stop them in their tracks. “You said… <em>we.</em> Who else is involved in this? I already know that Specialist Firite helped you cover up your tracks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="trelan">Fucking Gothee… he was so sure that no one would find out. Idiot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Trelan nodded. “Of course there are others. Almost two dozen of us so far.” They saw the Commander’s eyes widen. “This wasn’t random!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They looked closely as the Commander narrowed her eyes and they could practically see the thoughts running through. The kind of hesitation that they’d once felt, when confronted with the bitter reality of it all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A thought occurred – “You didn’t tell the others about the note I left, did you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A flash of acknowledgement – the Commander nodded… and she lowered her pistol.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Specialist, I’ll give you a chance to convince me not to turn you over to our security chief immediately. Make it good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Trelan breathed out quickly, not feeling the relief they thought they would if the Commander put her gun down. It still was very much pointed at them, if more in a metaphorical sense now than a literal one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know where to start…” But Zalska shot them a look that said <em>figure it out</em> and they nodded. “Commander Enkeza was involved in things that no one should’ve been… no, that’s too vague. He was using the Deep Felt for something. None of us were sure what – we were hoping to convince someone with an interface to come on board, but none of us have one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bullshit.” Zalska leaned forward toward the pistol. “This facility doesn’t have <em>access</em> to the Deep Felt. You think we’d rely on the slow wave if we did?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, not officially.” Trelan felt their heart racing. “But the Commander had access to it. Inside that security door.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zalska nodded. “Let me guess – his access card opens the door?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay.” Zalska’s hand rested on the pistol again. “But none of this explains what you did. You murdered him why? Because he was secretly diving the Deep Felt? To talk to who, exactly?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We don’t know!” Trelan took a step back, but stopped as Zalska’s hand closed around the grip of the pistol. “All the admin features in the terminal were disabled so we couldn’t check anything without an interface! But there was more… other things that Enkeza was doing.” Trelan’s eyes flitted to the side and then locked on Zalska. “We know he was using colony resources for something… something out in the wilds beyond the facility.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How? How do you know any of this? Why should I trust you?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Trelan’s heart felt like it was going to explode – they nodded and stepped back toward Zalska. “Commander – please let me show you what he has here. Please… you’ll see what I mean.” Slowly, Trelan reached into their pocket and drew out a security access card. Zalska stared at it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s Commander Enkeza’s card, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span>She looked nervous standing in the former Commander’s former office – even with the blood cleaned up, she looked like she could still see that imagine dancing in front of her eyes. And Trelan felt bad about it. They hadn’t actually intended it to be as bad as it was – the killing was supposed to send a message, but no one had told Trelan how much <em>blood</em> would be involved. It was… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t something that they wanted to dwell on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zalska still had her hand on her pistol, cautiously eyeing Trelan. “What the fuck are you gonna show me, Specialist? What could possibly make me change my mind about tossing you to Sergeant Pyrane?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Trelan walked over and popped out the hidden panel, exposing the security door. Without another word, they swiped Commander Enkeza’s card and the access console lit up green and the sound of the heavy bolts disengaging reverberated through the door. The door hissed slightly as Trelan opened it – a slight differential in pressure equalizing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A corridor that led to a ladder that dropped down into the floor to a place that wasn’t supposed to be there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You go first,” Commander Zalska said. “Not that I don’t trust you.” Her voice had a sarcastic edge to it and she accentuated it by grasping the butt of the pistol.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Trelan walked forward and stepped onto the rungs of the ladder – inside, something kept telling them to turn back. It was a kind of instinctual drive not to have to confront what was down in that room below the base again – to not have to think about what it all meant. Even though they’d already seen it and already guessed the wilder implications… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Trelan descended the ladder to the room below and stepped off. From above, they heard Zalska call down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Step out into the room and let me come down.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stepped away from the ladder and into the room – dimly lit by a few ambient lights that were designed to be left on for sweeps at a time. The sound of Zalska coming down the ladder echoed faintly into the room, but they weren’t paying attention to the sounds anymore – they couldn’t stop looking around the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The room itself was unremarkable – a desk sat on one end along with a telNet terminal and a set of Felt wetware on top of a chair. There was another table along the side. That was basically it for furniture, but there was more. Commander Mearto Enkeza had been hiding something from the rest of the colony. Attached to the walls and scattered over the tables were scribbled drawings on various scraps of paper. Trelan had seen them before – knew what they contained – but it was still unnerving to see them again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shapes that seemed to define conventional logic – half-remembered drawings of something that existed somewhere <em>beyond</em> and couldn’t quite be perceived. A seething, writhing mass that was both unimaginably vast and existing within the smallest pinprick of existence all at once. Something that lived and did not live, depending on how you defined it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was no way for Trelan to know any of this, but they knew it all the same. They hated the drawings – hated the implications that they had. Hated the questions they asked but didn’t answer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the fuck is this?” Zalska’s voice behind them. “What the hell is all of this stuff? Who drew these?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She already knew the answer – Trelan could hear it in her voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Commander Enkeza, as far as any of us can tell. We observed him leaving this room on multiple occasions.” Trelan tried to avoid looking at the drawings, but they were everywhere – they couldn’t <em>not</em> look at them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean? How did you observe him leaving when the exit is in his office…” She paused for a moment, then a noise of recognition. “Oh. There’s another exit, isn’t there?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She walked around the room slowly, hand no longer on her pistol. It didn’t take her long before she saw the door out – it wasn’t hidden.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where does it lead?” She asked, tapping the solid metal frame the door was set in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It leads outside, through a tunnel to a concealed exit point a few hundred yards away.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As Trelan watched her, Zalska walked to the desk and examined the terminal. After a moment, Trelan heard her breath in sharply – something had surprised her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The reason that all the administrator functions on this terminal don’t work,” she said quietly, “is because it’s a dummy terminal. It’s routing a signal from nearby… well… relatively nearby. Could be anywhere within a couple dozen miles though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Trelan nodded along. “We think he has some kind of place set up out in the wilds – like I was saying before. We’ve been trying to find it. I can show you what we’ve found out there if you want…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.” Zalska’s voice had changed – there was a kind of grit to it that hadn’t been there before. “You’re going to introduce me to these others you told me about. The ones who helped you with this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Trelan looked down and saw Zalska’s hands on the pistol.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wasn’t asking you a question, Specialist.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Dear Reader, thank you for taking the time to read my work! If you enjoyed this, please leave kudos or comments - I will try to respond to all comments if possible.</p><p> </p><p>  <a href="https://www.twitter.com/AltUniverseWash">Follow me on Twitter for more good takes!</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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